My name is justin adkins.

I am a transgender man who was arrested at the Occupy Wall Street Protest October 1st on theBrooklyn Bridge. This was my first arrest. This was the second weekend I participated in the Occupy Wall Street protest. I have been coming down on the weekends because I work 2 full-time jobs to make ends meet. One of those jobs is as Assistant Director of the Multicultural Center at Williams College in Massachusetts. The other is as a website developer.

I was toward the front of the march and after being trapped by the police on the bridge; I was able to watch as they arrested people one-by-one. I went peacefully when it was clear that it was my turn. My arresting officer, Officer Creer, found out I was born female when I yelled that information to the legal observer on the bridge. My arresting officer asked what I meant when I told the legal observer that I was “transgender” so I told him that I was born female. He asked what “I had down there”. Since it is a rude and embarrassing question to ask someone about his/her genitals no matter what the situation, I simply told him again “I was born female”. He asked, appropriately, if I wanted a male or female officer to pat me down. I told him it was fine if he patted me down. He then turned and asked a female officer, I believe her name is Officer Verga, to pat me down explaining to her that I am transgender. She patted me down and then preceded to refer to me as “she” even though I kept correcting her that my preferred pronoun is “he”. Luckily she disappeared after about 40 minutes, as I sat cuffed at the apex of the Brooklyn Bridge with hundreds of others.

Once we arrived at Precinct 90 in Brooklyn, the male officer taking everyone’s belongings asked if it was ok to search me. I said. “yes” and he proceeded to respectfully empty my pockets. I was arrested with a group of 5 other guys, and once they got us to the precinct, they initially put me in a cell with those same men. They asked if that was ok with me and I said yes. About 5 minutes after they took the cuffs off and shut the cell door an officer came back to the cell to move me. When he opened the door and looked my way, I was aware of what was happening. I knew that my transgender status would potentially be an issue once at the jail, which is why I told the legal observer that I was transgender. The officer glanced at me motioning to come out of the cell and then told me to put my hands behind my back as my fellow protestors looked on in bewilderment.

As we walked out past the other protestors waiting to have their pockets emptied, one woman looked at me with a puzzled look, we had connected on the long drive around Brooklyn as they tried to figure out where to take us. I told her that it looked like transgender people got “special treatment”. Within the first 15 minutes of being at precinct 90 I was being segregated and treated differently from the rest of the protestors arrested.

They took me away from the cellblock where they had all of the protestors locked up and brought me to a room with 2 cells and a bathroom. One small cell was empty and the large cell had about 8 men who had been arrested on charges not related
to the protest. Unlike me, these men had been arrested for a variety of crimes, some violent. When I entered the room they had me sit down in a chair on the same portion of the wall as the restroom, and then handcuffed my right wrist to a metal handrail. I thought that this was a temporary arrangement as they tried to find me a separate cell as part of some protocol regarding transgender people, which I later discovered does not exist in New York City. After about an hour I realized that they had no intention of moving me. I remained handcuffed to this bar next to the bathroom for the next 8 hours.

The cells, on the other side of the precinct where they had locked up the other 69 protestors, did not have working toilets. Every person who had to use the toilet was brought to the one next to where I had been cuffed. This was not only disgusting, but also embarrassing. The smell of urine was so strong that I, and the men locked up in the cell in the room that I was in, mentioned the odor on more than one occasion.

Once they started bringing women in to use the bathrooms, a short young female officer, who was in charge of people locked up in the same room, harshly turned my chair around with my arm still locked to the railing but now pinned behindmy back. She said that she knew it hurt but that they were bringing in women to use the restroom and she could not have me watching. I had no interest in watching anyone use the bathroom, and every-time a male had come into use the restroom I had respectfully turned away. This process of people coming in and out to use the restroom went on for the full 8 hours.

I was distinctly treated differently than the other protestors during my entire time at Precinct 90 in Brooklyn. At one point in the night, all of the protestors were given a peanut butter sandwich and water. I asked for a sandwich three times but no one acknowledged my request. I do not know when or how long those men were being held but I was there for eight hours and had sat on the bridge for about 2 hours and was never once offered water or a sandwich as my fellow protestors received.

At one point the woman I had spoken with earlier was brought in to use the toilet. When she entered the room she looked over
at me, shocked, and asked why I was attached to the railing. I told her again that it was the “transgender special”. She clearly understood that I was being discriminated against because of my transgender status. She asked the female officer in the room why I couldn’t be given my own cell and the officer said “you don’t know why he is locked up here” the woman said that she did know and that I should at least be given my own cell if they were not going to house me with the male protestors I was originally arrested with.

Throughout the night it became clear that they wanted my fellow protestors to think that I did something criminally wrong. That I had done something different from them. That I was not just a peaceful protestor exercising my rights on that bridge. That I deserved to be handcuffed to a railing on the side of the precinct with violent criminals. Everyone seemed to wonder why I had been separated. When other officers chatted amongst themselves about me, one officer suspected aloud that I was a “ringleader”. The woman officer stood a few times outside the glass wall with the door open as male officers asked about me. It appeared that she told them that I was transgender as they gawked, giggled and stared at me. This was embarrassing and humiliating. Only I have the right to out myself as a transgender person. She was using my identity to get a laugh with those she thought would find me curious and freakish.

At one point in the night a young man who had participated in the earlier NYC Slutwalk march to protest against explaining
or excusing rape by referring to a women’s clothing, came into use the bathroom wearing a mini-skirt. He was one of the protestors arrested with me on the bridge in the Occupy Wall Street March. The officer escorting him started poking fun at his mini-skirt at which point I explained that he looked good and the skirt was fine. When he sat down to go to the bathroom the officers laughed even more saying that they had “seen everything tonight”. The attitude of the officers made me realize that as much as I needed to urinate it would not be a good idea to do so. The space did not feel safe. By the time I was released I had not gone to the bathroom for 11 hours.

I was more than comfortable and safe with the 3 men I was initially put in a cell with. They were nice and we had a lot in common. If the officers concern was about my safety, I perceived I was in much more danger in the accommodations they gave me–away from my fellow protestors. Additionally, I was made fun of and treated differently throughout the entire process.

At about 2 am I was released with a desk appearance ticket and charged with disorderly conduct. To my knowledge I was the only one out of 70 processed at Precinct 90 who only received one ticket. The rest received 2 or 3 tickets, most including refusing to disperse and blocking a roadway. Why was I treated differently than the other 69 protestors? The only reason that I was treated differently was that I was transgender.

The NYC police department needs to have a written protocol and train its officers on how to treat transgender people. Most trans people who are arrested are trans women of color. Without a protocol all of us have a tough time fighting against the systematic oppression of the militarized police. A written protocol would help all of us. No one should experience the blatant discrimination and embarrassment that I did as I practiced my constitutional rights as an American citizen.

Solidarity,
justin adkins

http://justinadkins.com

By Guest Contributor Simba Rousseau, cross-posted from Her Blueprint

Threatening emails, phone calls, constant surveillance by secret police and eventually prison couldn’t dissuade Randa, an Algerian transsexual and pioneer in the Arab world’s gay and transsexual movement, from going public with her life story.

“I returned home to Algeria from my last trip and that’s when the threats to imprison me started,” says Randa, who received initial threats via email and phone. “As a method of intimidating me, they started sending articles about me to my family, and they would show up at my workplace. Once, while being stopped at a checkpoint, one of the officers grabbed me in the car and told me that he could arrest and rape me and no one would know about it.”

Convinced by influential members of Algerian society, two of Randa’s friends were forced to present her with an ultimatum. Leave the country in ten days or things will get worse.

Ten days is not a long time, but as luck would have it, a feminist organization in Lebanon found out about Randa’s situation and offered to assist.

“I don’t regret speaking out because in the end I realized that the reason they were doing all of this was because they were scared. I managed to shake up their system and this is why they were lashing out at me,” she said in an interview with Her Blueprint. “Of course it was driving me crazy, and I knew that if I didn’t leave the country they would kill me. I decided to continue addressing the situation of LGBT in Algeria outside the country and accepted the offer to go to Lebanon.”

However, Randa’s troubles were far from over.

Once in Lebanon, Randa caught the attention of the Lebanese secret intelligence. One day while going to the General Security (Lebanese immigration), she was informed that she was under investigation because she shared a birth name with a man who had skipped out on military service. It seemed to be an unfortunate case of mistaken identity, though Randa believes the Algerian embassy in Lebanon was responsible for having her detained.

Randa, who had been living as a woman for years, was forced to dress in men’s clothes and confined to a cell alone in the men’s section of Adlieh prison.

Adlieh, a former underground parking lot turned detention center, houses thousands of migrants and refugees and is infamous as a harsh and inhuman detention center.  Human rights advocates have long called for the closure of Adlieh due to its inhumane treatment of inmates. Most detainees languish underground for years until they’re deported or until rights groups are informed of their whereabouts.

Randa was one of the lucky ones. She was able to send a text message to friends letting them know that she had been arrested. “It was a miracle that I got the call that I was going to be released. Almost 99% of the prisoners are deported. They kept me in the prison for over 60 days because they were trying to figure out any way to deport me,” says Randa.

Once Randa was released, she decided she had to take the opportunity to share her life story. By publishing a memoir, Randa hoped to gain closure around her experiences in Algeria and humanize the Trans experience, which remains a taboo topic in most Arab countries. Her biography, Memoirs of Randa the Trans, which is based on a series of interviews with her, was written by Lebanese journalist Hazem Saghyieh and is likely the first book of its kind to be published in Arabic.

Speaking to Her Blueprint, Randa says, “I wanted to say to the world that Trans people exist. We have dreams, feelings, pain–just like everyone else. Our suffering is that we’re treated like monsters and people think that we are just looking for sex.”

So how did Randa become the voice of the Algerian Trans community to begin with? Like the recent political revolution in Egypt, it began with the Internet. In a conservative Muslim country like Algeria, where the penal code and society severely condemns the LGBT community, Randa faced severe difficulties. Oppressed by her family, bullied at school and abused whenever she would tell her mom that she was a girl trapped in a male body, Randa decided at the age of fifteen that someone needed to address the issue of LGBT in Algeria.

“When the Internet arrived to Algeria it gave me an outlet to speak, so I started a personal blog writing about different issues I was facing. Then it started to take on a life of it’s own,” says Randa. “People around the world started coming to my blog and it became a reference for individuals to learn about issues concerning the LGBT community in Algeria.”

Although living in Lebanon as a transwoman has been easier than it was for her living in Algeria, discrimination and harassment still exists. As a certified nurse, finding work in her profession or landing any kind of respectable job has been a daunting task.

However, for Randa the bulk of the discrimination she faces in Lebanon is within the LGBT community. “Within the community you have this hierarchy of the gay male, then the feminine male, then the lesbians and then the lesbians are categorized according to their look and then there are the bisexuals and then the trans,” she said. “Of course there is also the class issue that also plays a role in dividing the community.”

The Maynard Institute’s Fault Line Framework is a diversity tool that teaches people to talk to each other with the goal of understanding. Dori J. Maynard, who has been refining the framework, will write a regular feature about living on the Fault Lines. This is her first entry.

A few hours before the recent Rally to Restore Sanity, the general manager of a Hampton Inn in Washington, D.C. kicked me out of his hotel, forcing me to stand on the street to wait for my colleague in 39-degree weather.

The incident began when I arrived early for a breakfast meeting with a program officer from one of the major foundations that supports the nonprofit I run. We were in town for the Online News Association’s annual convention and wanted to catch up.

After looking around the lobby, I settled on a seat at a table where I could watch the elevators.

Right in front of me was an older white guy wearing a t-shirt with the word “eracism” emblazoned on the back. Given that the tenor of our national conversation these days has me increasingly fearful about where this country is heading, I was touched to see him making such a strong statement and got up to tell him so.

He was in town for the rally, and we discussed that and the general mood in the nation. When the conversation ran its course, I turned to return to my seat.

That’s when the general manager stopped me and asked if I was a guest at the hotel. I explained I was not but was there for a business meeting with a guest. “Ma’am, you’ll have to leave the hotel,” he said, leading me through the lobby and toward the doors.

I thought he had misunderstood, so I repeated that I was in fact there at the invitation of a hotel guest. “Ma’am, you’ll have to leave the hotel,” he repeated. Slowly, I began to realize that this was no case of “mistaken identity.”

The general manager apparently had deemed me so undesirable that he did not think I was fit to sit in the lobby of his Hampton Inn.

Somewhat disoriented, I managed to have the presence of mind to tell the front desk clerk to call my colleague and let him know that I would be unable to meet him in the lobby as planned because I was being escorted out of the hotel.

The general manager and I watched as she spoke into the phone. Clearly, I was there to meet a paying guest. But the general manager continued to repeat, “Ma’am, you’ll have to leave the hotel.”

People have asked why I did not refuse to leave and then insist that he call the police.

I think that the truth is I was blindsided.

My professional life is all about working with the news media to ensure that all segments of our society are accurately and fairly portrayed. I often speak of the corrosive effects of skewed media images on our public policy and personal lives.

As a person of color in this country, I have many times felt as if I am under greater scrutiny, so I compensate and arm myself as best I can. I consciously try to act in a way that reassures those around me.

Taking a cue from my father, I try to dress as well as possible, almost as if I’m sending up a silent prayer that if I look like this, maybe you won’t treat me like that.

But walking into a hotel lobby for a business meeting is such a mundane and common occurrence in my life that it never dawned on me to be on guard.

It wasn’t only the manager who blindsided me. Equally shocking was my own reaction.

We have programs that teach people how to talk across difference, including not internalizing another person’s negative reaction. Intellectually, I knew this had nothing to do with me. Yet all I felt was shame.

Henry Louis Gates Jr., was roundly criticized for screaming “you don’t know who you’re messing with,” according to a police report, as the Cambridge cop arrested him in his own home.

I wanted to shout the same thing, not as an arrogant assertion of my authority but as an anguished cry for recognition of our shared humanity.

“You don’t know who I am. I could be your mother, your sister, your cousin or your aunt. I am a fellow human, not something to be discarded on the street.”

I said none of that.

The closest I came was, “Why are you doing this to me? You know I am meeting someone here.” Even I could hear the weakness in my voice, further deepening my sense of humiliation. That was the only time the general manager deviated from his script, saying, “We have to protect our other guests. Ma’am, you’ll have to leave the hotel.”

I made one more lame attempt to assert myself and asked for his name. He thrust his card at me, opened the front door of the hotel and ushered me into the cold. The card identified him as Joseph Galvan, General Manager of Hampton Inn Washington DC Convention Center.

Stunned, I stood shivering on the street wondering what the heck had just happened to me.

People have asked me whether I want Galvan fired. The truth is I don’t want him ever to do this to someone else, particularly someone younger and truly vulnerable. But firing him won’t solve the problem.

As I pointed out after NPR recently fired Juan Williams, just because you shut someone down doesn’t mean you’ve lifted up the issue.

Our Fault Lines framework teaches that it will be very difficult for us to reach common ground until we learn to have the difficult conversations around charged issues. That’s what I would like to see happen this time.

I would like to sit down and have a conversation with the general manager and his colleagues. I want to know what and who he saw when he looked at me in the lobby of his hotel. I want to discuss his underlying assumptions and how he came to them.

After hearing about what had happened to me, my cousin Peter looked up the company on the Internet and learned that the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission had sued one of its Indianapolis properties about a month ago. I’d like to talk to company representatives and learn what happened and what they think about both of these incidents. I’d also like to know what the company’s guidelines are for escorting people out of the lobby.

This is what we teach and preach in our media work because we don’t think we have a chance to restore our national sanity if we can’t even determine how to have a civil conversation with each other.

Last week, Christopher Lee Dunn, a decorated Asian American police detective, filed a civil lawsuit against the Burbank Police Department, alleging that he was the victim of discrimination and retaliation before being unlawfully fired: Sixth Burbank officer sues department over discrimination.

Dunn, who won the Medal of Valor as a Los Angeles Police Department officer before joining the Burbank force, says that he was subjected to years of racial taunts and discouraged from joining department’s narcotics unit because he was not white. He was apparently targeted by management before eventually being run out of the department.

He isn’t the first cop with grievances against the department. In May, five Burbank police officers sued the department and seven current police officials, alleging that they tolerated an environment in which officers commonly used slurs about race, ethnicity and sexual preference directed at them, their colleagues, suspects and the public at large.

Dunn’s suit, filed separately, seeks civil penalties and compensatory damages. He specifically alleges that he was discouraged by members of an elite, “all-white” narcotics unit who said they didn’t want to work with non-whites. When Dunn was ultimately promoted, he was subjected to racist jokes and comments.

The lawsuit also alleges that Dunn was given less desirable assignments in the unit despite having more narcotics seizures than any other Burbank officer. When one of the offending colleagues was transferred, the harassment apparently got worse. More here: Sixth Minority Officer Sues Burbank Police Department.

That Farai Chideya is no longer holding it down at NPR’s “News & Notes” is abundantly clear. Yesterday’s “News & Notes” segment–” The Obama Effect on Black Women’s Hair Issues–was some serious insipid nonsense. Since the dawning of the Obama era, I’ve sensed a disturbing trend in coverage of black women’s issues by mainstream media. Having a black First Lady seems to have inspired the media to take some notice of the unique lives of African American women. Good. Problem is, the gently increased coverage is shallow and inconsequential, and often has the feel of detached voyeurism–academically peering at the exotic world and strange habits of black women (oddly, this is so, even when the work is presided over by black women). A product of these travel guides to Blackchicksylvania is the “Lawd, us black wimmin’s hair sho is complicated” story, which usually includes the meme that Michelle Obama’s hair is a hot topic among black women. And so goes the “News & Notes” piece by Allison Samuels, featuring celebrity stylist Marcia Hamilton.

Listen.

Says Samuels, “We now have an African American president, with an African American wife and two African American daughters. So now we talk a lot about hair–things we probably didn’t talk about when we had First Ladies who were not African American. So, the conversation has gone from one end to the other. Should Michelle wear more natural hair? Should she cut her hair? Should she have a perm? Should she press and curl? Why do we have such an obsession, even now, in 2009, with black women and hair?”

First, I would love to know where these purported conversations about Michelle Obama’s hair are taking place. Where is this obsession with her tresses flowering? So far, I’ve seen several articles about the phenomenon (I believe Salon has peddled it, too.), but have yet to experience it among any, y’know, actual black women. As far as I can tell, in real life, no one is riding Michelle to bust out the cornrows at the next State dinner. (According to Samuels, black female bloggers are calling for Michelle and her daughters to be champions of black hair. Why’s everybody got to blame the bloggers these days? I’m plugged into the top black blogs and haven’t seen any such discussion percolating. Hmmmm.)

Now, there has been some discussion about how the politics of black hair might effect the politics of the nation. It is no coincidence that when Michelle Obama was portrayed as a radical on the cover of The New Yorker, the cartoonist drew her with a big ass afro. And many nappies have noted that Barack Obama may not have been elected president if the woman at his side had been rocking twists or locs. Natural, black hair is demonized in our society. People often attach meaning to it where none exists. I assume that Michelle Obama likes her hair just fine. But anyone with a lick of sense should understand why the styles she chooses tend to be straight and conservative. If I were Michelle Obama and my spouse were a black man seeking the highest office in the land in a country still struggling with racial bias, I’m pretty sure that I’d wear a flattering, conservative, straight style, too. Not to mention the look she had to maintain while climbing the corporate ladder herself.

Recognizing the politics involved in Michelle Obama’s appearance is not the same as calling for her to be the poster child for nappydom. Although you all know I advocate natural hair, I recognize that the decision to wear it is not one to be taken lightly. As much as I might like to see more black women decide that nappy is beautiful and professional and elegant, I’m not about forcing my choices on other women when I won’t be the one living with the consequences.

Many black women have fraught relationships with their hair because we are the only race of women who are expected to change the natural properties of our natural hair to be deemed acceptable–professionally and personally. Rather than discuss this in a meaningful way, Samuels and Hamilton normalize the pathology surrounding black women’s hair.

Some choice quotes from the report:

“Our hair needs certain enhancements…”

“Black female hair can’t handle the stress of ‘getting done’ every day…”

“Don’t all little black girls get their hair straightened on special occaisions?”

“In our community, straight hair represents a more polished look.”

There is a lot of discussion about the damage created by heat and manipulation to achieve straight styles a la Beyonce…the need for weaves and extentions…and some offhand acknowlegement that the deifying of straight hair is a learned societal value, but the conversation never comes back around to the ridiculousness of black women having to go to such great lengths to be accepted. No one ever brings up this simple fact:

Black hair can be styled every day and maintained with ease if it is worn as it is naturally meant to be.

White women’s hair would be deemed “difficult” too if society suddenly decided that ponytails and straight bobs are “radical” and “too ethnic,” and only tightly-kinked hair is acceptable. If white women had to use chemicals and extreme lengths to maintain afros or kinky twists, then people might roll their eyes and snicker “you know white women and their hair,” too.

But Samuels and Hamilton position straightening and weaving as simply what we have to do to look good. Even as they decry the idea of “good” hair, they also dish about special suppliers that provide the best Indian hair for high-quality weaves, stashing your weave in the glove compartment of your car in case you need it (Huh?) and Hamilton actually suggests that men wanting a black woman with real hair “go to Africa.” She then acknowleges that even women in Africa are wearing weaves. (Yippee! Sarcasm.)

I am offically over the Michelle Obama/hair discussion. If we can’t have a real talk about black hair, then let’s not have one at all, particularly in the mainstream media. And let’s leave Michelle Obama out of it. With her fierce intelligence and accomplishments, there is so much more that she can be to our country and the black community than our “Great Black [Hair] Hope.”

Change has come to America. But it took a detour around Madison Avenue. While citizens have adopted phrases like “post-racial,” the advertising industry operates in a pre-Civil Rights time warp. Whenever the topics of diversity and inclusion appear, ad executives consistently display stunning ignorance. MultiCultClassics has sought to address the issues in the past. However, the matters have evolved along with society, despite Madison Avenue’s retarded development. As a public service, this blog will answer a series of Frequently Asked Questions to enlighten the asses… er, masses.

Question: Isn’t Cyrus Mehri just another opportunistic bottom feeder in the Jesse Jackson / Al Sharpton tradition?

Answer: It’s always interesting—yet never surprising—to see individuals who protest injustices branded as bottom feeders. Then again, facing off with Madison Avenue on these issues does require lowering yourself to nasty depths.

Regardless, it’s important to recognize key differences between Mehri and Messrs. Jackson and Sharpton.

Despite occasional forays into advertising industry affairs, Jackson and Sharpton are ultra-outsiders. (Although rumors claim Black-owned agency executives told Jackson to back off when he offered to wage battles in the past.) While the two clearly understand things like exclusion and discrimination, they’re corporately clueless, at least when it comes to the ad agency business. In contrast, Mehri has done his homework. The Bendick and Egan Economic Consultants, Inc. report is nearly flawless in its examination of the inner dealings on Madison Avenue. The AAF and 4A’s couldn’t have produced a more factual, accurate document.

Additionally, the tactics employed by Jackson and Sharpton have possibly lost effectiveness over the years. One could argue that Jackson especially often resorted to intimidation that played on White guilt. Mehri, on the other hand, seeks to intimidate by proving Whites are guilty.

Advantage Mehri.

As for being opportunistic, well, let’s really consider the term. Remember, this battle has been plodding along since the 1930s. Madison Avenue has had plenty of opportunities to address matters for about 80 years. It’s not as if Mehri seized upon the moment, catching people unaware. The truth is, industry leaders have been opportunistic by perpetuating the problems via apathy and worse. Maybe we should all see this as an opportunity to create positive change.

If Mehri manages to take this drama to a courtroom, we can’t wait to learn whom Madison Avenue will call upon to defend. Even Denny Crane would take a pass on it.

Change has come to America. But it took a detour around Madison Avenue. While citizens have adopted phrases like “post-racial,” the advertising industry operates in a pre-Civil Rights time warp. Whenever the topics of diversity and inclusion appear, ad executives consistently display stunning ignorance. MultiCultClassics has sought to address the issues in the past. However, the matters have evolved along with society, despite Madison Avenue’s retarded development. As a public service, [The MultiCultClassics] blog will answer a series of Frequently Asked Questions to enlighten the asses… er, masses.

Question: Doesn’t President Barack Obama prove we don’t have to pursue this diversity stuff anymore?

Answer: Why do certain individuals view President Barack Obama as some form of reparations—as if his election pays off the bar tab of bias Madison Avenue has amassed over the years?

President Obama symbolizes a major milestone in racial progress. Madison Avenue represents a serious setback in cultural evolution.

President Obama assembles a staff reflecting the vibrant variety of brilliance in America. Madison Avenue collects excuses like, “We can’t find qualified minority candidates.”

President Obama signs his first bill in support of equal pay. Madison Avenue signs diversity pacts and is exposed for paying Blacks 20 percent less than Whites.

President Obama proves change is possible. Madison Avenue shows resistance to change is possible.

By all means, let’s hold up President Obama as the one to revere. But let’s also recognize Madison Avenue as the one to reform.

Change has come to America. But it took a detour around Madison Avenue. While citizens have adopted phrases like “post-racial,” the advertising industry operates in a pre-Civil Rights time warp. Whenever the topics of diversity and inclusion appear, ad executives consistently display stunning ignorance. MultiCultClassics has sought to address the issues in the past. However, the matters have evolved along with society, despite Madison Avenue’s retarded development. As a public service, [The MultiCultClassics] blog will answer a series of Frequently Asked Questions to enlighten the asses… er, masses.

Question: Given the tanking economy and widespread advertising agency layoffs, isn’t this the absolute worst possible time imaginable to wage a diversity war?

Answer: Oh, there are worse timings one could imagine. Like during a supernova, or at the moment of Armageddon. Try to keep matters in perspective. As noted on numerous posts, the battle first erupted in the 1930s. Madison Avenue has seen lots of catastrophic occurrences over that period. We shouldn’t let the probability of a total economic collapse prevent progress.

Besides, it’s actually easier to ignore the issues in good times. When jobs are plentiful and the corporate coffers overflow, advertising executives feel less obligated to make diversity a priority. But when your shop is teetering on financial ruin, well, the prospect of Cyrus Mehri seizing gobs of cash certainly grabs your attention.

Other considerations loom large too. The ad business is experiencing seismic shifts right now. The old ways are being abandoned. The old hierarchies are being redrafted. The old business models are being shattered. The grizzled cynics proclaim, “The ad biz as we know it is OVER.” The seasoned veterans are in the process of Reinventing Advertising. Everyone foresees a brand new day. Even the culturally clueless aren’t completely clueless.

So while Madison Avenue is undergoing an extreme makeover, why not fight to ensure diversity becomes a part of the foundation? This could be the absolute best possible time imaginable.

Change has come to America. But it took a detour around Madison Avenue. While citizens have adopted phrases like “post-racial,” the advertising industry operates in a pre-Civil Rights time warp. Whenever the topics of diversity and inclusion appear, ad executives consistently display stunning ignorance. MultiCultClassics has sought to address the issues in the past. However, the matters have evolved along with society, despite Madison Avenue’s retarded development. As a public service, this blog will answer a series of Frequently Asked Questions to enlighten the asses… er, masses.

Question: Why do all the diversity discussions focus on Blacks—what about Latinos, Asians, Native Americans, People With Disabilities, Gays, Lesbians, Women, Veterans, Older Employees, Pit Bull Lovers, Mutants and The Rest Of Us?

Answer: Get in line. Unfortunately, the deeper you dig into Madison Avenue’s corporate closet, the more skeletons you’ll find. Recent years have seen work and deeds demeaning everyone listed above, including a Jewish creative director allegedly sexually harassed by a neo-Japanese warlord.

Blacks are in the spotlight for a few reasons. First, the group has been officially fighting for change since the 1930s. To understand the details, read Madison Avenue and the Color Line by Jason Chambers. The author presents a fair and frank documentation of events, showing the successes and failures to date. Additionally, the New York City Commission on Human Rights’ latest efforts have been led by New York City Councilman Larry Seabrook and activist Sanford Moore, who are strongly pushing a predominately Black agenda. Finally, attorney Cyrus Mehri is building a class-action lawsuit focused on the inequities Blacks seemingly always face in the ad game.

However, it’s important to realize the real battle is not being waged exclusively for any single group. The Bendick and Egan Economic Consultants, Inc. report stated the following:

Although this paper focuses on African Americans, the same issues of employment bias in the advertising industry simultaneously affect other “outgroups” — race-ethnic minorities such as Latinos and Asians; women; older workers; persons with disabilities; and even White males who do not share the cultural or stylistic characteristics of the White males who dominate the industry. These other groups would benefit alongside African Americans from a reformed, inclusive advertising industry culture. This broad potential enhances the urgency of addressing the problems raised in this report — and addressing them in effective ways.

In closing, a recent story published at AdAge.com inspired this comment:

I find a couple of things interesting. To think that addressing the evident discrimination of Blacks in advertising won’t benefit the other discriminatory issues in advertising is naïve. Nearly all of the fights for equality use the struggle of Blacks in history and especially the Civil Rights Movement as their standard. While I applaud the office of Chief Diversity Officer in its motives, I think it is a shame that any company or industry has to have someone in charge of doing what is right by people. The idea of respectful accountability should be a tenet of leadership. Instead, someone has to be paid to make sure that a company is exhausting all recruiting resources to look for the best talent, which, in my opinion, is hiring smart people (they come in all colors, genders, orientations, etc.) with a good work ethic, who never tire of learning. Someone is paid to make sure everyone is treated with respect from recruiting through their tenure with the company. It is a shame that someone has to tell my company we need to pay and promote fairly. It is a shame that the integrity in how we treat each other has to be regulated, mandated and disguised. While we may not have control of ensuring respect in society at large, I would like to think in a corporate structure that respect is such an intrinsic part of the company culture and values, that there is no need for a Chief Diversity Officer. I will go further into diversity blasphemy by stating that I would do away with the word “diversity” and all of the affinity groups having lunch and going to happy hours. My company statement would be simple: “We treat everyone with respect.” This is the plumb line for all we do. It captures every issue of diversity and beyond. It would solve the issue of this group being left out or feeling this or that. Now that this is off my chest, I understand my views are idealistic, but I also know it would work. Who will be the first to make a stand against diversity and promote true respect to the point where a Chief Diversity Officer is a position of the past?

My fellow Asian Americans, stand up for yourselves in the workplace! According to a new report from the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, Asian American employees are underrepresented in the senior ranks of federal agencies, and likely are underreporting instances of discrimination on the job: Asian-American employees underreport discrimination, report finds.

The report, which was released earlier this month, says that Asian Americans face a number of misperceptions and stereotypes, factors that have become “the framework of barriers establishing glass or bamboo ceilings which present [Asian American and Pacific Islanders] from moving into the upper tiers of an organization.”

A 2005 Gallup poll found that 31 percent of Asian respondents said they had experienced discriminatory or unfair treatment on the job. But the EEOC noted in its report that enforcement actions reveal that Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders file only 3.26 percent of discrimination.

Say what now? We already have enough problems with people thinking we as Asian are passive, good little citizens who do what we’re told. It does us no good to let people walk all over us. It’s one thing to be discriminated against — it’s another thing entirely to stay quiet about it. And we wonder why we’re so conspicuously absent from executive and senior management levels…

Some intriguing news out of the San Francisco public defender’s office… A MySpace blog entry written by former intern Carrie Wiplinger has prompted the superior court and Public Defender Jeff Adachi to investigate whether a lawyer in Adachi’s office was once told to keep Asians off a jury: Intern Blog Alleges Juror Racial Bias.

In the blog entry, posted September 3, Wipplinger wrote about a case involving a drunken man whom authorities found receiving oral sex in a car:

“I got to listen in on a conference regarding jury selection,” she wrote. “My bosses gave the following advice to the lawyer …don’t pick any Asian jurors, because (and I quote): ‘Asians don’t drink, they love Jesus, and they’re creeped out by everything.‘”

She wrote that the lawyer followed that advice, and the client was acquitted. But the attorneys who worked her deny making such a comment, and say Wipplinger got several other facts wrong: the jury hung and the defendant was not acquitted; there was no testimony or evidence that the man was drunk; and there were at least one or two people of Asian descent on the jury.

Adachi said the deputy public defender assigned to the case, Lateef Gray, and his supervisor, Kwixuan Maloof, both denied that they or anyone else made the statement about Asians. Well, of course they denied it. The question is whether or not the blog’s claims, even if she got some of the facts wrong, is based on something that actually happened, or if she just made the whole thing up.

One thing is probably for sure. Everyone involved, including the intern, is not happy that this damn MySpace blog has suddenly received so much attention. And if what she says happened is indeed true, and the lawyer did give this advice, well… that’s racist!

So, what to do about Khalood Bojanowski? If you’re NBC, apparently, you hope to ride her “coattails” all the way to the ratings.

Previously, on “Momma’s Boys”: “Mrs. B,” who emigrated to the U.S. from Iraq as a child, became the center of attention of the network’s latest trainwreck reality show after declaring that she didn’t want her good Catholic son, Jojo, dating any of the following:

* Black women
* Jewish women
* Muslim women
* Asian women
* “Fat” women
* “Short” women
* Women from “divorced families”

Is Khalood crazy? Probably not. Was she an all-too-willing promotional hook for executive producer Ryan Seacrest and his staff? Quite possibly. Early on, the series seemed to focus almost exclusively on her animosity toward Vita, a 25-year-old critical care nurse. When Vita confronts her on the issue, Mrs. B. says that, though she loves her black godson and knows “half of the Detroit Lions,” — yet another reason to laugh at that franchise — that white and black cultures “don’t mix.” She also tells Vita, “My skin is darker than yours, b-tch,” which sets Vita off. Mind you, Vita later apologized; I appreciate the sentiment “respect your elders” as much as the next guy, but is a date with a 21-year-old college hockey player worth swallowing that much pride?

Later, after we get to hear more rantings against her from Mrs. B, Vita is eliminated, ostensibly because Jojo has shifted his focus toward another girl. Before Vita leaves, however, she and Mrs. B have a tearful reconciliation of sorts, where Mrs. B tells Vita she hopes her dreams come true or something vaguely “respectful.” And after her departure, Vita is again left in tears. I sincerely have no idea why.

In another episode, Khalood said she felt her culture was disrespected when only one of the remaining suitresses chose to cook an Iraqi meal as part of a challenge. We got to see her teary-eyed about it with her son, but not anybody asking her how the hell she could expect any respect after trashing a United Nations worth of races and cultures earlier in the contest, so any insight as to her real reasoning might have been left on the cutting-room floor. Though somber voice-overs and previews keep referring to Mrs. B’s views as “disturbing,” the creative team and the network have not stopped featuring her being obnoxious, to the point where the other two mother/son couplings were almost afterthoughts before the last couple of episodes.

Of the initial 32 participants, eight of them were black. Of those eight, only Camilla is still in the running, so Khalood hasn’t “won” yet, and the creative team can give us another round of ads like the one where Khalood, spying on Jojo from a friggin’ helicopter, losing her temper at the sight of her beloved son kissing another black contestant, Misty.

Entertainment Weekly was among the many outlets quick to roast the show upon its’ debut, calling it “The Best Show That Should Never Have Been Made.” And the public hasn’t taken the racist bait, according to Zap2it.com; “Momma’s Boys” has consistently lagged behind reruns of other shows since premiering late last year. And some sort of retribution may be coming to Mrs. B: before the show even began airing, she complained to police that she was being targeted.

But no matter what happens to Khalood and her decent if dim-witted brood, I’m left with more questions: Can Seacrest and his staff “justify” not only giving this woman a platform for her racism, but making her the focal point of the show’s storylines and promotion even as the ratings tanked? Was this, as The Cruel Secretary suggested to me, an attempt to “expose” racism? Why these three particular schmucks? Why did the sole Latina contestant not even get a chance to speak? And for the love of all deities, why are all these women – of color and otherwise – subjecting themselves to being “judged” by this collection of creepy-ass mothers and douche-tastic dudes? Tell me, dear readers, for I am a well and truly stumped geek.

That said, if you need me this week, I’ll be preparing for the announcement that Vita and Megan (she’s just too adorably geeky!) are taking part in the inevitable sequel, “Momma’s Girls.”

(Thanks to reader Tamara for the tip!)

Arnold Shapiro, the executive producer of ABC’s Homeland Security USA, states in a Washington Post article that, “It [the show] doesn’t have a political point of view.” The show aims to depict the men and women of the Department of Homeland Security as they do their jobs at the airport, the border, and/or the post office.

I didn’t believe Mr. Shapiro when I read the article, and I don’t believe him after watching the show. Terms like “terrorist” and “illegal” (in reference to immigrants) were tossed around all over the place: these terms are laden with racist and political overtones, especially in the border and airport security contexts of the program.

My confirmation that the show had a political bent was when a group of young men and one woman were stopped at the U.S.-Canada border. The border patrol stated that the driver was a Canadian citizen, but that his parents were Iranian citizens. It was stated as if it were proof of his alleged guilt: the officer mentioned his parents’ citizenships along with his possession of a fake ID and his untruthful answers to officers’ questions about his travel itinerary. Last time I checked, citizenship (one’s own or that of one’s family/acquaintances) wasn’t evidence of wrongdoing. But this show (and its politics) makes it automatic evidence of guilt and in doing so promotes xenophobia.

The other pieces of evidence? All passengers were brown. Now, they didn’t come out and say it, but I knows racial profiling when I sees it. In fact, every suspect featured in this television show was brown: Latino, Middle Eastern, South Asian… Even the innocent people. Mr. Shapiro must be unaware of the politics (and maaaaaajor racism) behind racial profiling.

I don’t have an issue with aiming to promote and appreciate the work that the men and women of the DHS have to do. I appreciate and understand that what they do to protect this country is difficult, dangerous, and sometimes horrific.

I have an issue with the fact that the other side isn’t presented or addressed: the fact that some officers commit human and civil rights violations when dealing with both citizens and non-citizens (immigrants, tourists, etc.); the trauma that innocent (and even the non-innocent) face during such violations; and the fact that racial profiling and xenophobia are terrible and unfair realities (if not policy) in DHS operations.

Last week’s “Flying While Muslim” (and brown) incident is proof that our security systems aren’t 100% efficient. No system is. But to attempt to lionize the DHS–through highlighting all the hard and thankless work that the men and women “on the ground” do–is misleading. And not-so-sneakily political.

(Photo Credit: ABC)

My mother is a black American, raised Baptist in Tennessee. My father is a Muslim from Nigeria. More specifically, for those in the know, he’s Yoruba.

When I was a baby my American relatives, all natives of small-town Tennessee and wholly unfamiliar with Africans, took to holding me up in the air and anointing me Kunta Kinte, like the character in “Roots.” Although the gesture annoyed my mother to no end, her family members found it hilarious.

Africans, you see, are hilarious. If there is one stereotype about Africans that has lingered throughout my life it is this. Perhaps because of this stereotype, before my birth my maternal grandmother envisioned that I would look less like a baby and more like an offensive cartoon character. She warned my mother to expect me to have coal black skin and bright red lips like Little Sambo. In expressing her fears, my grandmother ignored the reality of my father, who is dark-skinned but not especially so. In fact, he is a shade or two lighter than my mother is. Because Africans are an “exotic other,” however, my grandmother adopted a white supremacist gaze in connection to my father.

She’s far from the only black American to adopt that stance in relation to Africans. In Chicago, where my parents met and lived, my mother recalled being approached by a black woman curious to know if I cried in “African.” Now, I was born in the late1970s, before Akon dominated music charts or Hakeem Olajuwon (a fellow Yoruba) dominated basketball courts. Still, it’s somewhat shocking to note that some of the African Americans in my midst then viewed me as an entirely different entity from themselves.

Fortunately, such experiences never gave me a complex about being African growing up. Perhaps this is because my classmates included other blacks from foreign locales—Trinidad, Jamaica, Haiti and Panama, among them. Another reason is that my parents divorced when I was just an infant, resulting in me growing up with my maternal relatives and culturally as a black American. There were no markers, such as dress, food or an accent to distinguish me from my classmates. Even my name, which is not Nigerian but Arabic, didn’t seem particularly odd growing up because of Kareem Abdul-Jabbar’s popularity then. Classmates often linked me to him, nicknaming me Nadra Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, rather than to Africa.

Being a first-generation African seemed like no big deal because I knew that my black American friends were originally from there, too. In middle school, when I encountered a Haitian classmate who angrily denied that her ancestors originated in Africa, I was shocked. I never believed that being from Africa was something to be ashamed of. I had been given reason to believe so, I suppose. I grew up watching the “Gods Must Be Crazy” films, in which Africans are portrayed as lovable buffoons. And during the “We Are the World” craze, I watched bloated Ethiopian children the same age as me, too weak to swat away the flies that swarmed around them. Still, I couldn’t get why anyone would be embarrassed to be African. The first time I saw the scene in “Boyz n the Hood,” in which a lead character disowns Africa and uses the insult African “booty scratcher,” I simply rolled my eyes.

By the time I was 17 or so, I was exposed to another viewpoint about my heritage. Being African was cool, being African American, not so much. People—white people and a few bohemian blacks—wanted me to dress like an African, speak like an African, etc. I was to be a portal to an exotic world. The fact that I have just one African parent and was not raised by him was completely overlooked. In my early 20s, when I read Malcolm X discuss how whites responded to black Africans with an awe they would never extend to black Americans, I could totally relate.

Some argue that whites treat African blacks differently from American blacks because slavery (and therefore guilt) is removed from the equation when dealing with the former group. I’m not convinced this is it, though. When the eyes of whites light up upon learning of my Nigerian heritage, it seems that they are just excited by the fact that I come from a continent with lions and tigers and bears (okay, so no bears). To boot, because many whites mistakenly believe that they have no culture, they take particular pleasure in learning about other cultures—the farther removed, the better. Ironically, I have met young Africans who feel that they have no culture because of the dominance of American popular culture. They feel they must emulate American culture rather than draw on their native cultures for inspiration.

In black American culture, Africans are at times celebrated and at other times denigrated. Take the film “Barbershop,” in which the West African employee in the shop is more or less an updated version of a character from “The Gods Must Be Crazy” films. Only in this case, he is a lovesick buffoon rather than an ordinary one. Throughout the film, I tensed each time this character found himself the butt of another joke or it was made clear that he could never win Eve’s heart.

These days, my American relatives no longer take their cues about Africans from movies. They wouldn’t dare address me as Kunta Kinte now. However, when my father does something to piss me off, they are quick to come to his defense by blaming his African-ness for his lack of sensitivity about an issue. Their behavior in these instances is more of a hindrance than a help, for it implies that we can’t hold an African to the same standard of conduct as we would ourselves. Their behavior reminds me of a short story called “The Man from Mars” by Margaret Atwood in which the outrageous behavior of a Vietnamese character is ignored because he is “a person from another culture.” In my situation, my American relatives suggest that Africans are simply too assbackwards to understand common courtesy. Never mind the fact that my father has lived in the U.S. for nearly four decades and is a true citizen of the world in that he has visited more countries than I can count on both hands.

During my travels to different parts of the world, the Africans I have encountered don’t fit the buffoon stereotype. In the UK, ask someone to name a stereotype of a Nigerian, and you’re likely to be offered up the image of a cab driver or a drug lord. There are also the privileged Africans I have met from all over, children of ambassadors and prominent businessmen. For a cinematic example of this, check out the French film “Café Au Lait.”

In fact in the U.S., both Africans and West Indians tend to be better educated and more financially comfortable than their black American counterparts. I have sometimes seen this lead to tension between the groups, with certain Africans capitalizing on the positive perceptions white Americans have of them and distancing themselves from black Americans. On the other hand, I have seen black Americans argue that African blacks believe that they are superior, all the while making fun of Africans for their accents, customs and physical features.

Another source of resentment comes from American blacks who visit Africa and are disappointed by the reception they receive. I’m not sure what these blacks are seeking when they visit Africa. I have visited Nigeria only once and was warmly received. Many people I encountered there greeted me with a “Welcome Home” when they encountered me, which I did not expect or ask of them .

I know that some American blacks have it wrong. I think of those, for example, who visit South Africa looking for ancestral connections when more than likely they are descendants from West Africa. I think of those who, as Sarah Palin was recently accused, seem to think that Africa is a country rather than a continent. They—whites and blacks, alike—are the ones who have asked me if I speak African, unaware that in my father’s country of origin more than 400 dialects are spoken alone. And there are those such as an American aunt I have, who despite knowing my father well, told me that she knew that he was from somewhere in Africa but didn’t know the exact country. “Nigerian?” she asked. “I didn’t know he was Nigerian.” This, after 30-plus years of knowing him.

Changing times may signal improved relations between American and African blacks in years to come. Not only has the U.S. elected a half-African to lead the country, at this time in history, more Africans have entered the U.S. than did during slavery. This could result in more awareness among black Americans about the cultures of Africa, not to mention more unions between the groups that produce children who aren’t the subjects of curious stares, jokes and inane questions because of their heritage.

Yesterday the internet was abuzz with the fact that Prince might be homophobic.

Carmen from New Demographic commented on Twitter that this didn’t make sense. She wrote ,

“I’m still amazed that Prince is a homophobe. I mean, isn’t there a good chance he’s been gay-bashed in his life? (Even if he’s not gay).

I responded back saying that she presumed that possessing a “fringe Black masculinity” would make him more likely to be tolerant. I added that tolerance, like hate is taught. She responded saying she agreed, but it was still sad.

I agreed.

Even before I read the evidence of what Prince said, I suspected that if Prince was being intolerant, then perhaps may have something to do with his interpretation of the tenets of his faith practices.

This Prince moment also reminded me that our generation has a hard time accepting the fact that victims can be perpetrators.

The question of whether victims can be perpetrators has been on my mind for a while. A couple of weeks ago, I was having conversation with Krisna Best, of the Hip Hop and Democracy Project, which grew from my review of Byron Hurt’s film, Barack and Curtis.

Below I provide two quotes, which in my opinion get to the issue of our discussion of whether victims can be perpetrators.

Krisna wrote,

Your example of the white woman reminds me a lot of the whole “black on black crime” thing. This is where I start to disagree with you. There’s a white supremacist tinge to the black-on-black-crime concept because it pathologizes, if you will, black behavior. Black folks commit crime not because of a pathology or because of false consciousness, but because of much larger structural circumstances and is related to my point about this generation breaking with the conditions of work. They see the old arrangement as providing no road out of the circumstances of our society, not because they believe in their inferiority or whatever the conclusions of this bogus psychoanalysis are.

I responded,

Aren’t you pathologizing them into permanent victimhood?

They have agency. They can choose. We all choose to sell crack, blog, have children, vote, join the army. I am completely aware of the fact that our choices take place within the range of options available to us, and that often times our parents class status dictates exactly which options we just may have.

Let me ask you this? Do you think that D-boys/Pimps have agency?

While he didn’t respond at the time to my question, he has done so since I posted this.

The notion of victims being perpetrators weighs heavy on my mind, as I have been reading a lot about the Black Power Movement, Gender and Sexism for the past few weeks. You may be surprised, but, there were folks who felt that Black men weren’t capable of being sexist because they were victims of racism. Somehow, they some folks to believe that being a victim, they couldn’t be a perpetrator.

Now this of course makes no sense.

For example, Black folks who have been victims of racism can be prejudicial towards other Black folks regarding skin color. Paper bag party anyone?

That’s the horror of racism. It corrupts. It poisons.

Once we decide to refuse to look at people solely as victims who have nothing to contribute, and to see people as subjects who have agency and a will to change, the path will be laid for us to have personal transformation on an individual and societal scale.

SAALT (South Asian Americans Leading Together) has been keeping track of an increase in xenophobic violence and rhetoric against South Asians in the weeks and months leading up to the 2008 elections, including assaults targeting immigrants who either supported or were perceived to support President-Elect Obama. Here are a few examples of recent violence against South Asians and other communities of color:

• Hardwick, New Jersey — On November 6, 2008, an incident occurred in which Alina and Gary Grewal found a cross burned on their front lawn. The cross was wrapped in a congratulatory banner the family had made which read “President Obama, Victory ’08″.
• Carteret, New Jersey — On October 30, 2008, an incident occurred in which an elderly Sikh gentleman, Ajit Singh Chima, was punched and kicked repeatedly in the face, suffering fractures in his jaw and near his eyes. This occurred soon after a 10-year-old Sikh boy, Gagandeep Singh, was attacked on October 8, 2008, by an individual who pushed him to the ground and forcibly cut his hair.
• Staten Island, New York — In early November, an incident occurred in which four white men beat a Liberian-American Muslim teenager, Ali Kamara, near his home. The attackers jumped out of a car and assaulted him with a baseball bat after shouting “Obama.”
• Providence, Rhode Island — In September 2008, an incident occurred in which a Sikh-American man was accosted by an individual who said, “I have a gun in my car and since you are a hajii no one will care if I kill you. You know why the police won’t do anything? Because I got blond hair and blue eyes.” As the assailant left, he screamed, “F*** Arabs and F*** Obama.”

In light of these incidents, SAALT is re-circulating a basic factsheet on hate crimes with answers to frequently asked questions and resources for those in need. To learn more about the work SAALT is doing, and its services and resources for hate crime victims, visit the SAALT website here.

Dear Friends,

I am writing because I am disturbed by the string of articles, blog entries, and list serve threads that have come out in the last few days suggesting that the high turnout of African American and Latino voters for the presidential election was responsible for the passage of California’s proposition 8, which dealt a heavy blow to LGBT families by banning gay marriage in the state’s constitution.

These articles mistakenly imply that the struggles for civil rights for LGBT people and communities of color are separate or even at odds with each other. They deny the work that LGBT people of color do to combat homophobia and transphobia in their families and communities, often while facing racism within the queer community as well. These articles deny homophobia among white people. They displace blame away from those who actually have the power to consistently deny others civil and human rights, and instead, charge that when communities that have long been disenfranchised and alienated from political processes participate, that the results with be negative for LGBT people.

I believe all communities need to be held accountable for their homophobia and transphobia. I want to acknowledge the suffering and hardship that the passage of Proposition 8 has caused for LGBT couples and families. But, while the media casts blame on communities of color for the passage of Prop 8, it is imperative that we struggle against the logic that tells us that struggles for LGBT civil rights and racial justice are separate—that we re-examine our strategies for advancing LGBT civil rights and gay marriage and, in particular, look at places where LGBT communities have failed to align our struggles for civil rights with ongoing struggles for racial justice.

Californians live in a state that has one of the highest incarceration rates in a nation with the highest incarceration rate in the world. Studies have estimated that at any time, 40 percent of black men in their 20′s in California are under the control of the correctional system. Criminalization affects many LGBT people, in particular, those that may be experiencing addiction or who, lacking familial support, move to expensive cities where they may have a hard time accessing affordable housing and legal or living-wage work. I write from San Francisco, where, in the months leading up the election, I saw a massive mobilization within the queer spaces in which I spend time to get people to vote no on 8, but I saw little or no public discourse among LGBT people about very important state propositions: 5, 6, and 9—all of which potentially impacted things like funding for prisons, drug crime sentencing, or the trying of minors as adults in this state.

In the last months, we have seen raids by Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) throughout the state and in San Francisco. Many people immigrate here for work as a result of a US foreign policy that destabilizes foreign economies. Additionally, San Francisco is home to many LGBT immigrants who may have come to the country seeking safety and asylum. While my inbox was flooded with emails pertaining to Prop 8, I heard from very few queer people who were seeking to mobilize around the October 31st demonstration to protest ICE raids, other work pertaining to ICE raids, or San Francisco’s establishment as a sanctuary city.

The November ballot contained several important city initiatives that could have affected the livability of our city both for low-income people of color and for many queer people:

Proposition K, an initiative to decriminalize prostitution, would have helped sex workers in this city to make major strides in their ability to organize for their rights and safety, allowing them to better protect themselves against violence and police harassment. Despite the fact that many, many young LGBT people in this city earn their livings as sex workers and daily face risks to their safety, and that trans women working as sex workers have lost their lives while working in the city within the last two years, I saw shockingly little effort among LGBT people to educate themselves on the realities facing sex workers or the background on Proposition K—Let alone to spread any word about it.

Similarly, proposition B, which would have mandated that the city set aside part of its budget for affordable housing was defeated by SF voters. We live in a city with a history of racist schemes of redevelopment and displacement: SOMA in the 60s, Justin Herman’s redevelopment of the Fillmore, illegal evictions in the Mission in the 90s, contemporary cuts to county welfare, and most recently, the gentrification of the Bayview—to name a few examples. And yet, San Francisco voters have failed to stand up for working families’ ability to live affordably in this city—a city where remaining working class communities of color face major threats of displacement.
Despite the fact that white LGBT people often play complicated roles in the gentrification of the city and displacement of communities of color, I saw no media reports released on November 5th scrutinizing the voting trends of white LGBT San Franciscans on Propositions B, N, K, 5, 6, or 9, as juxtaposed to the numerous articles scrutinizing the voting habits of Black and Latino voters on Prop 8. And despite the overwhelmingly negative outcome of several important local and state propositions, outcry among the wider LGBT community seems to have been reserved solely for the passage of Proposition 8.

As a young, queer woman living in San Francisco, I feel very strongly that affordability is vital to the creativity and well being of the city’s LGBT community. And as a white person living in the Mission, I have to think and act critically in regards to the complicated role I play in the gentrification of this neighborhood and the larger schemes of displacement within this city. I love my queer life and love living in this city. I get to witness the ways of living and congregating, making new families, new cultures, and envisioning new worlds that are possible living around so many other brilliant and creative queer people. While I would like to lend my support and compassion to people who lost the right to marry this week, I also question the logic that tells me that my only struggle as an LGBT person centers around my right to marry. While I sign petitions to support marriage as a civil right, I would like to see LGBT Californians take a serious look at the fact that housing, healthcare, employment, and freedom from police harassment and incarceration are also civil and human rights.

I would like to see LGBT Californians talk not only about how marriage rights could affect their ability to receive their partners’ health benefits, but about universal healthcare. I would like to hear us talk not just about how a lack of marriage rights separates couples where one member lacks citizenship, but connect this to struggles for immigrant rights. I would like to hear LGBT people not only talk about how their families are discriminated against, but link their struggles to those of the many California families where children are being raised by people other than their parents due to the mass incarceration of parents with children.

The passing of Proposition 8 is a sad day and indicative of the work that lies ahead. As we heal from these blows, I would like to challenge us to consider how our struggles are bound up with struggles for racial and economic justice, and how our fight for civil rights, and the health of our communities could be strengthened by taking these connections more seriously. Above all, I would like to challenge us to resist racist media schemes that, during our moment of need and an even greater moment of possibility, are attempting to pit LGBT people and their supporters against communities of color in California.

I apologize for the hasty construction of this, but time is of the essence. I welcome your thoughts.

In struggle,
Adele Carpenter

Alternet recently reprinted an article by James Kim (written for The Nation), reporting:

If exit polls are to be believed, some 70 percent of African-Americans voted Yes on 8, as did 53 percent of Latinos and 49 percent of Asians; each of these demographics went heavily for Obama; blacks by a 94-to-6 margin. Los Angeles County, heavily minority, went 50-50 on Prop 8. These results have shocked gay activists, who knew from earlier polls, for example, that black voters favored Prop 8, but they were seeing much smaller margins, closer to 50 percent.

The easy, dangerous explanation for this gap, and one already tossed around by some white gay liberals in the bitter aftermath, is that people of color are not so secretly homophobic. But a more complicated reckoning — one that takes into account both the organizing successes of the Christian right and the failures of the gay movement — will have to take place if activists want a different result next time. First, there’s the matter of the Yes on 8 coalition’s staggering disinformation campaign. Ad after ad told voters that without Prop 8, their churches would be forced to perform same-sex unions and stripped of their tax-exempt status; that schools would teach their children to practice homosexuality, and, perhaps most effective, that a smiling Barack Obama had said, “I’m not in favor of gay marriage.” This last bit went out in a flier by the Yes on 8 campaign targeting black households.

[...]

For years, the California Christian right apparatus, long hampered by their nativism and racism, had been unable to make inroads into the state’s brown, yellow and black populations — a demographic goldmine in a state that is more than 50 percent minority and growing. Prop 8 may prove their gold rush. From the very beginning they bought up ad space in Chinese, black, Spanish and Korean media; they hosted massive rallies for ethnic Christians. The Sunday before election day, I went to Los Angeles City Hall for the most celebratory, most diverse rally I have ever attended; it was organized by Yes on 8 Chinese advocates.

So, it would appear that the passing of Prop 8 had a bit more to do with targeted outreach and good messaging than the inherent homophobia of nonwhite communities. Now, I am not saying that people of color can’t be bigoted or homophobic – we are. But what always chafes me about these issues is that people jump to a gut reaction like “blacks have a problem with homophobia” in their community without taking the time to figure out why something happened the way it did.

That aside though, Prop 8 brought up a lot of good conversations as to the nature of community building, homophobia in nonwhite communities, the idea of solidarity, and how we so often fail to notice the interlocking oppressions that manifest themselves when we try to mass organize.

I asked the contributors here to share their thoughts on the passing of Prop 8. Here is what they said.

Andrea Plaid:

This hurts me deeply.

It hurts me deeply that a majority of Black, Latin@, and Asian Californians refused to see how racial and sexual oppression–and liberation–are linked to each other. They voted to maintain their places in the kyriarchy instead of working for the freedom of another group who suffers–and have died and still die–to simply express their desire to create intimate, life-long relationships so they’ll have one person–just one person–bear witness to their lives. No, the PoCs who voted for this hateful policy are owed and do not owe a quid pro quo to queer communities, but they–we–do owe them the common courtesy to ensure an environment to be able to live peacebly with whomever they wish to live with. In a secular society–where, by definition do not have a state-endorse and -enforced religion and, in this particular societywe have so many to choose from and quite a few of us have traveled from religion to religion–should abide by the faith of civility. The same civility PoCs have lived, bled, and died for what we’ve demanded from whites is what our queer relatives, friends, co-workers, neighbors want from us. That’s all–nothing less and nothing more.

And because we live in a secular society, we simply can’t use our deities and our sacred books as reasoning to justify what we did to our queer brethern and sistren–literally and figuratively–at the voting booth in CA. If we can’t agree on a religion, how can we say whose god said what and which sacred sayings apply for the rest of the US, especially when it comes to legislating other people’s lives?

And, honestly, I think the religious argument serves as a smoke screen for judging what people do in their bedrooms. That’s right: sex. The revulsion I’ve seen in these anti-gay marriage arguments seems seated in a certain curiosity with the kind of sex queer people are having. Using a deity’s name and scriptures allow a disconnected piety as a gossamer veil for the can’t-quite-look-away fascination people have with how queer people fuck. But this is the argument I’ve used to cut the crap around that disingenuousness: in a secular society, a person should expect three things from zie’s neighbors: 1) they pay their taxes, 2) they maintain their dwelling places, and 3) if they have children, then they are rearing well-adjusted, productive children. How exactly does fucking influence those three things? And usually that kills the argument.

That is perhaps, where the post-Prop 8 activism rests–not in loud, shoe-sole wearing marches–but in quiet advocacy, of discussing with family members and friends and neighbors to help them see that we’re connected. And, more than ever, we can use these words to remind us why we need to connect our struggles and our advocacy to develop a civil society for all of us:

“In Germany they came first for the Communists, and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Communist. Then they came for the Jews, and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Jew. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a trade unionist. Then they came for the Catholics, and I didn’t speak up because I was a Protestant.

Then they came for me, and by that time no one was to speak up.”
~~Fr. Martin Niemoller

Arturo Garcia:

For me it keeps coming back to the numbers. And at the risk of sounding like a pollyanna, the numbers lead me to believe there *is* hope for the days ahead.

Everybody comes back to the “70% support” for Prop 8 among black voters. What gets ignored is, blacks only made up 10 percent of the total number of voters, anyway. Latinos, who voted for Prop 8 by a 53-47 margin, only made up 18 percent of that number. Guess what? Whites still constitute 70 percent of said voting population, and the measure only failed with them by two percentage points.

Moreover, while California had more registered voters than ever before — the AP reported more than 17 million people around the state — only about 5 million of them actually voted for this specific proposition. Seven million Californians didn’t vote at all on the issue. A sweeping mandate, this was not. This gives me hope.

Also, in looking at those CNN exit polls, you can see that the percentage of voters who were for Prop. 8 drops off by age. While 61 percent of all seniors voted for it, 64 percent of all voters 18-24 — the demographic advertisers crave the most — voted against it. And less than 48 hours after the vote, this group is pissed off and organizing. Facebook groups. Boycotts targeting pro-Prop 8 businesses. Protest marches. Ironically, the young people Prop. 8 purported to “protect” may well steer the path toward its’ ultimate demise.

Thea Lim:

I live in Canada. Same sex marriage has been legal here for 3 years – not that long, but long enough for it to be a very normal thing for an urban Canadian like me. It’s easy for me to forget that in the vast majority of the world, same sex marriage is illegal. I was incredibly taken aback and saddened to hear that California voted for Proposition 8.

But this isn’t the first time a social justice movement, when faced with failure, has blamed people of colour. In fact the lack of people of colour within certain mainstream social justice movements (like the environmental movement or the anti-globalisation movement) occurs in part because people of colour are consistently used as scapegoats when progressive goals fall short.

I regularly hear, for example, that people of colour (and often poor people) don’t care about environmental issues – though that’s clearly untrue. Another famous (Canadian) example: when Quebec held a referendum in 1995 to separate from Canada, the leader of the separatist movement blamed “the ethnic vote” when the referendum didn’t pass.

As Nadra and Latoya have pointed out, it’s clear from the numbers that Prop 8 could not have been passed by the African American vote alone. We know that 70% of African American voters in California voted for Prop 8. It’s pretty telling however, that no one is talking about what percentage of white voters voted for Prop 8.

When people of colour are blamed for homophobia, it not only (stupidly) exempts white folks from homophobia, it also totally renders queer people of colour invisible. Creating an opposition between queer people and people of colour suggests that there’s no one who falls into both of those categories.

Not to mention the fact that perhaps, for queer people of colour (and white queer folks too), priorities are different. Marriage is not always number one on the list. In the words of Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore:

Gay marriage does nothing to address fundamental problems of inequality. What is needed is universal access to basic necessities like housing, health care, food, and the benefits now obtained through citizenship (like the right to stay in this country).

But while we’re dealing with the racism that puts the blame for Prop 8 solely on the shoulders of people of colour, we do also need to admit, and then confront, the homophobia that exists in communities of colour. I don’t really care to talk about whether or not white communities or more or less homophobic than our own; it’s a pretty fruitless debate.

Fighting the racist rhetoric around Prop 8 doesn’t require us to deny that homophobia exists in our communities. The fact of the matter is that as anti-racist people of colour, we should be worried about how the homophobia in our own communities daily puts the physical and emotional needs of queer people of colour at risk.

There are many initiatives in the US that seek to address our own homophobia. The Dari Project is one. Supporting these initiatives may be the best way to prove that those who blame Prop 8 on people of colour are wrong.

Many thanks to M, F and Michelle for their help.

Nadra Kareem:

I still find it mind-boggling that 70 percent of black Californians voted for Proposition 8. Although I’ve heard time and again that blacks are raging homophobes, that stereotype never rang true for me. Perhaps this is because I’ve known gay, straight and bisexual blacks, alike, not to mention blacks of all political and religious affiliations. Or perhaps this is because the homophobic comments I’ve heard blacks make didn’t seem to be more extreme than the homophobic comments I’ve heard whites, Asians and Latinos make. Adding to my confusion is that one of the most homophobic members of my immediate family has become less so as she is exposed to gays and lesbians in her workplace and in popular culture. As America has become more accepting of gays, so has she.

I don’t know whether this family member would have voted for or against Prop. 8, and I don’t know what motivated those blacks who did to do so. What I do know is that California’s blacks don’t make up enough of the electorate to be responsible for Prop. 8’s passage, so why focus on this part of the population other than to suggest that, while Americans were open-minded enough to elect a black president, blacks are too narrow-minded to support gay rights. I am also curious as to why the media hasn’t broken down California’s black electorate into smaller segments so the public can have a better idea about which blacks supported the proposition. Were highly educated blacks overwhelmingly in support of the proposition? How about well-income blacks? I suspect not.

The only distinction I’ve heard the media make about California’s black electorate is that we were likely to have been influenced by the Church. I, for one, am a black who would be considered a highly religious member of the electorate because I attend church services weekly. Yet, I voted against Proposition 8. While I believe that the New Testament defines marriage as the union between one man and one woman, I recognize the separation that exists between church and state. This is a distinction that Jesus made himself when he said in Matthew 22:21, “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s, and to God what is God’s.”

If Jesus recognized the separation between church and state, why are Christians so bent on making their religious beliefs law? If we recognize the laws of the land, as Jesus did, there can be no denying that, while there is no Biblical basis for same-sex marriage, stripping two willing adults of their right to marry in the U.S. constitutes discrimination, and, therefore, should be illegal.

(Photo Credits: ABC.com, NYDailyNews.com)

Some racist news from abroad, spotted over at the Resist racism blog… In Wales, an Asian woman has accused a university of racism after she was apparently told that an accountancy course might not be suitable for “Oriental people”: University in ‘Oriental’ race row.

Odgerel Hatenboer, who is originally from Mongolia, attended an open day at Glyndwr University in Wrexham, with the hope of enrolling for an accountancy course. However, she was told my a staff member that the course might not be suitable for “people like you, Oriental people”:

She said: “The man said something like ‘I’m not saying you’re Chinese but people like you, Oriental people, tend to accept what is written in the books and what the lecturer says, whereas this kind of course is nothing like you have studied in the past, it requires more analytical skills, you will have to do more yourself.”

Right. Whatever the hell that means. The guy apparently didn’t even ask about her background or qualifications. Just one look at this Oriental lady and a quick judgment. Thanks for the advice, now kindly shut the hell up. By the way, she happens to have a masters in development economics from the University of Manchester and holds a diploma from the Association of Accounting Technicians. Oh snap!

Ms. Hatenboer completed the application form anyway. She was told it would be passed on to the relevant department and she’d hear from the university within a week… However, when she later checked on the status of her application, she found out it had never been received. Where did it go? It’s a mystery! That’s racist!

Note: My boyfriend sent me this on September 23. As so often with conversations on OkayPlayer, the forums purge and the conversation is lost. The original link he sent to the topic comes up with an error. However, he did copy ?uestlove’s response to the thread, which was really a meditation on what it means to be a large black man, going about your daily business.

—

51. “well….i really wanna say skin”
In response to Reply # 41

but its like those are the small adjustments i have to make in everyday life to make white people happy.

here are some others.

-i remove the afro pick when im going to a city on a plane and we (the roots) are the only blacks aboard. im use to being a goldfish to people by now. but sometimes i just give up.

-i talk EXTRA job interview whenever the flight attendant reads the beautiful name my parents gave me aloud. just to assure the wall street journalites that im not going to pull the act you think im going to pull simply because you just heard two arabic names read aloud in first class.

-i turn my body hard to the left (as if in the dunce corner) when im on an elevator alone….

-actually part 2: i will get OFF the elevator sometimes cause the fear of entering the elevator is such a shock to some white women they will just play it off like they dont have to get on. so i get off….

….and next thing you know….they get on.

part 3 (i know this is some sad shit on the uncle rukus tip)- i also stand smack dead center in the elevator to avoid the always embarrassing scenario of: door opens, they walk in unsuspecting then they look in the blind spot where i am hidden in a corner and they “YELP!!!!….oh god you scared me”.

part 4- i never travel in an elevator with dixpop cause that to me is the nightmares horror scripts are made of.

–yeah it gets worse.

all the roots acknowledge that we colgate smile in our passports so that we look harmless. and PRAY to god we get no trouble (ive done 6 anal searches in my 17 years of travel—that is 7 too many)—mos spoke on this (heathrow mr nigga) back in 2000. i’ve had 2 more situations go down since buffalo (see myspace blog) but after awhile its just broken record time.

i mean i tape my snare drum as to not sound too soulful for viacom just in case they play our shit.

–small shit—

always small shit.

i OVER OVER OVER tip just to overcompensate in restaurants.

and not because i got money.
and not because i dont want my food tainted.

but because i know they think blacks suck at tipping.

EVEN me getting the car is a reaction to adjustment in america

(i mean granted yes….it was free and its afro friendly and i enjoy riding it….)

but shit is so fucked up that NOW the right thing is to get a baller car because no self respecting cat would get a mini (my other jawn) or a prius (my next jawn)—

i mean i “see” your point and i know you “get ” my point.

but my point is…

if my choice of car is based on what car will make me look more innocent.

—-just read that again.

if my choice of car is based on what car will make me look more innocent.

MORE innocent.

they dont know about the nice guy shit.

or the scholarships

or the santa quest shits

or the benefits

or the community service

or the bailouts from jail ive posted

or jobs i provided

or the lectures

or my “proper english”

or me taking care of my mother, father, sister, 3 nieces, 2 cousins, paralyzed childhood friend, and my hero’s mother.

they see none of that yo.

im just a dude cheating on his trainer.

that’s my real crime.

the 1:40 am fish samich.

the taste and smell bring me back to a place that only soul train reruns can evoke:

1200 block of S 49th street. my grandma’s house.

i know this seems overdramatic (it is)

but not hardly overexaaaaagggggeeeerraaated. (W hotels are the darkest most sinsiter looking elevators in the USA. and if you are on your 5th vodka and the doors open and you see me…..lol)

but in closing….

if my choice of car is based on what car will make me look more innocent.

then something has got to give.

i’ll be 40 in a couple of years.

im sooooooo at the end of my rope when it comes to adjustments for survival in america that are so small and miniscule that sometimes it aint worth mentioning.

this is why Wright was so amped.

and america was so shocked.

i love my car.

what car is out there that is as cool as my car….that they won’t even stop to think twice to see if i stole some white dudes shit.

(Photo Credit: Island/Def Jam)