The Value of Pivoting

Unlike my older brother, I have never been a good basketball player. To my great chagrin when I was a kid, unlike the other things I applied myself to and managed to see marked improvement (e.g. trigonometry), I never managed to become a true baller. Yes, I was that kid often picked last - like dead-ass last to the point that the remaining team left to pick would start looking around to see if someone else in the park/near the court/on the block might want to play before they would be forced to pick me. Although that experience sucked at the time, I can laugh about it and own it, unlike some dudes who try to creatively re-write their "glory basketball days". And despite my lack of game then and now, I have always enjoyed the sport of basketball (mostly watching nowadays), as it has taught me a lot of skills that are applicable to my everyday life. One such skill is pivoting. For those unfamiliar with pivoting in basketball, it entails keeping one foot in place while holding a basketball and moving one's other foot one step in any direction. The immense value of this one move is that it allows a player the ability to move an innumerable number of different directions with ease without having to dribble the ball - and thus be forced to move beyond this one spot. At it's essence, pivoting provides a player options, as long they all fit within the framework of the shot clock. Although I rarely play basketball these days, I often use this singular move in my life, especially when it comes to dealing with people and situations that have the potential to send me off the anger management cliff.

Learning to pivot when I am Sam Jackson-level angry - think Pulp Fiction - has helped me to grow immeasurably in my personal and professional life. Much like you, I have found myself truly pushed to my limits by certain people and situations, whether by happenstance or by my provocation. Unfortunately, in the past I haven't always been...uhh "graceful"...in dealing with my anger and frustration. I am not going to go into chapter and verse as to what I've done - that in some cases is a matter of public record (I have never been to jail, though) - as what I've learned from my anger management failures is to pivot away (mentally, emotionally, physically) when faced with a CODE 10 situation (i.e. I am about to lose my shit.). Specifically, pivoting for me entails shutting down dwelling unnecessarily on someone or something that upsets me (e.g. "I can't believe this mother...... did this to me..."), not stoking the fire of emotions that are destructive (e.g. "I'm gonna get you, you just wait..."), and walking away from situations that have the potential to go there (i.e. the police will be making a guest-star appearance). Whether it be work related, such as dealing with nonsense that far exceeds my job description, or dealing with friends and/or family who test my patience (they know just the right buttons to push), pivoting has been a godsend. Besides providing me an out, it has given me the invaluable time to pause and reflect on my words and actions before I act, which is clearly important when one if firmly entrenched in adulthood. One part and parcel of getting older is realizing and caring that some things said in the heat of anger are very hard, if not impossible, to walk back. Furthermore, being profoundly embarrassed and contrite about showing your ass (i.e. losing your cool and acting a fool) IN ADDITION to being unable to rectify your ugly behavior is truly a jagged pill to swallow. I know, as I have had to swallow a lot of them.

How Did They Do It?

I got the chance yesterday to visit the gravesites of my paternal grandparents while visiting Lake Charles, Louisiana. Although it may seem like a somewhat morbid thing to do on a warm and sunny Thanksgiving day, I rarely get a chance to visit my paternal grandparents, nor the city where they are still well-remembered and well-respected. Since I was a child, they have always been a beloved enigma to me. As they died many years before I was born, I have managed over the years to put together a pretty good composite for myself as to what they were like. As far as I can tell, like most other people, they had there merits and their frailties - generally in good measure. Most of what I know about Papa and Mama Simon was gleaned from innumerable stories shared with me by my late father, who died eleven years ago. Even though my dad was a tough-as-nails dude who didn't suffer fools, the one thing that always softened his edges was talking about his parents, whom he respected immensely. Of all the things I have ruminated about my grandparents, one question has always remained: how did they manage to self-sufficiently raise 16 children without being of considerable formal education or significant material wealth?

That above number is not a typo. My paternal grandparents had 16 children (same mother and father), all of whom grew up to be generally successful and productive members of society. Now, that's not to say we don't have some crazy folks in our family (you are going to get some frayed DNA when you procreate this many times) - but who doesn't? In my mind, the ones who are a little touched  (a self-explanatory southern expression), are generally harmless and they honestly keep things interesting, so to speak. Nonetheless, I always marvel at the sheer will, determination, and character my grandparents had to successfully pull off this unbelievable dual feat of childbearing and parenting. You see, it's one thing to have all these children, it's another thing to actually raise them well, which they did. Furthermore, I can't even begin to fathom how Papa Simon, as a Creole man (i.e. French, African, Native American ancestry) living in the Deep South during the early to mid part of the last century, managed to start two modest businesses (e.g. furniture and grocery) when so many other men of color were systematically denied the opportunity to do the same.

Undoubtedly, because of the rock-solid values instilled in my father and his siblings  (e.g. integrity, self-respect, faith) and the example set by my grandparents "to do something and be somebody," our family has survived and thrived in spite of many cruel and inexplicable twists of fate that are endemic to human life.  And much like your family in some form or fashion, my grandparents story is the American story. They too were like millions of other working-class Americans from a bygone era who worked hard to raise a family, paid their taxes, were contributing members to their community, lived a life of quiet faith, and did all of this in the singular hope that their children, and even their children's children who they would never even come to know, would have a better life than the one they knew.  As far as I'm concerned: mission accomplished. I am immensely grateful for the fact I have a blessed life because of the unimaginable sacrifices Papa and Mama Simon made, as well as those of my maternal grandparents and parents. Because of this, I guess it doesn't really matter that I'll never figure out the minutiae of how they made everything work back then. The fact is - they did. That is the American story - at least one of the parts that I am both proud of and humbled by.

80 Degrees?!

I am not sure how the rest of you are spending your pre-Thanksgiving, but I am spending mine in unexpected 80 degree weather in Louisiana. I am truly in WTF mode right now, as for the past five years I have been accustomed to being in freeze-your-ass-off-it's so-damn-cold-I want-to-fight-somebody weather in Korea.  Yet, I am shockingly in my spring/summer mode here: shorts and a T-shirt, sitting outdoors at a coffee shop sippin' on an ice coffee, soaking up some sun to remove the Casper (The Friendly Ghost) tan I rock 365 days a year, and pecking around on my computer. Usually, my vacation in Louisiana is in the spring/summer when the sweat-your-ass-off-it's-so-damn-hot-I-want-to-fight-somebody weather is in full and relentless effect Seriously, I almost got heat stroke walking from my car to the front door of a movie theater last June. I have always (mistakenly) assumed the weather here cooled down to tolerable and sane levels by this time of the year - clearly not. Louisiana is like one of those huge omnipresent crawfish pots: it always stays on steady boil, which is probably one of the many reasons why Louisianans are such...um...characters.

Happy Thanksgiving y'all!

Bullies, Bastards and Bitches:

On Sunday, I saw the above book sitting on the shelf at my local Borders, and I was completely mesmerized by its provocative title. Two thoughts immediately came to mind: what a great way to describe the modern day Republican party and/or creatively organize the names of some folks on your Christmas shopping list. I know...shame on me. If you read this post further, be prepared to utter this phrase a lot more. But I digress. Actually, if you see the small print at the bottom, it is a creatively titled guide on how to develop interesting, complex evil characters when writing fiction. As doing such a thing is not my avocation or hobby, I began to ruminate on how often we all (yes, all of us) use this trinity of incendiary nouns, sometimes with great zeal and conviction, to characterize people in our lives. Truth be told, I can think of a number times when I've felt without a shadow of a doubt someone was one absolutely one or all of these three words - no ifs, ands, or buts! However, at times I would come to realize I was completely wrong in my assessment of this person (the shock/the horror.), despite the great confidence generally have in reading someone (I get that from my father).  Now, I am not here to publicly flog myself for the above transgression,  or any of the innumerable ones I have. I generally save that for the privacy of my own home, or when I've had too much to drink. Also, let me put your mind at ease that I am not about to de-cry the decline in civil discourse nowadays (I am a fan and advocate of being uncivil in my language when it pertains to Republicans and/or Fox News ) - that's readily apparent. Furthermore, I am not here to finger wag to you how unfair it is to cast aspersions upon someone (i.e. call someone out their name) - duh. No, I am not here to preach or teach, just share for those who care (if you don't care...God bless...deuces.) You see, what I find most interesting is what really lies beneath our decision to define people so assuredly with one of the above nouns ({insert name} is nothing but a no good...). Sure, we may be able to enumerate with great detail and sound justifications the case we have against someone that led us to convict them as a bully, bastard, or bitch. But beyond this, and of course a visceral anger and/or a highly limited vocabulary, I wonder why you really think someone is a bully, bastard, or bitch?

Calling someone or something a bully has become seemingly de rigueur nowadays, and in many instances, rightfully so (e.g. the U.S. health insurance industry). We all know innumerable examples of people, institutions that willingly and without justification take advantage of others who are in an disadvantageous position to defend themselves. And no, Comcast Cable taking away your ability to watch "The Walking Dead" or "Breaking Bad" because of a dispute with the AMC network doesn't count -you always have torrents to fall back on, folks. As we all know, modern life is far more complex than that which can be seen in the dichotomy of black (i.e. evil) and white (i.e. good). Sometimes, things are more opaque or highly debatable. For example, what truly constitutes a bully among adults? By recently perusing television in all its incarnations (cable talk fests, sitcoms, reality shows, etc.), books and magazine articles, blogs, as well as ear hustling public conversations (I only do this on occasion, I swear), I have started to recognize some grown folks are truly misappropriating this word. In doing so, they are undermining its utility and are creating bullying fatigue by the masses (Americans become indifferent to words they hear "too much" (e.g. racism). Let me be context specific: I am referring to a spirited debate or discussion between two adults.

Nowadays, it seems that folks who respectfully yet vigorously and unapologetically express and defend their opinions with cogent argumentation with others who fail to do the same in return are considered bullies. Case in point, I recently watched two adults engage in an intense but civil (i.e. no yelling, threatening gesticulation, looks of death) debate about Obamacare, and one of the individuals walked away at the end of the conversation stating in a huff they felt bullied because their counterpart didn't yield to their points of view on the topic. Really? As I see it, if someone is unwilling to play defense as well offense with what comes out their mouth in this context, disengaging under the premise of being bullied is pure tomfoolery. Also, just because one doesn't get the perfunctory, polite, "oh yeah, me too", that is maddeningly present in so many conversations today means they've been bullied. It used to be understood and even appreciated that adult discourse (also known as "grown folks conversion") could at times be a verbal contact sport, especially when travelling through the landscape omnipresent hot-button issues (e.g. politics, religion, race, etc.). However, that seems to be less and less the case today.  I would like to suggest these "conversationally bullied" adults talk to someone who is disenfranchised and treated as a social pariah day in and day out; upon doing so, I hope they would gain insight as to what it really means, feels to be bullied. Furthermore, possibly it would inspire them to stop using this word to cope with their frustration in dealing with an intellectually exhausting conversation where they had their ass handed to them, so to speak.

Now let me be clear that you are picking up what I am putting down here. Again, the aforementioned is in regard to a civil and non-violent, albeit heated, conversation of divergent opinions between adults. Let me be further explicit so as to not be called an advocate or apologist of bullying, which I am definitely not. I am not referring to a conversation where it clear both parties are not on equal footing of some sort (e.g. age, social status, disability). Under such circumstances, the propensity and opportunity to bully is more likely to occur, whether by intention or accident. Again, I am talking about two grown-ass adults having a grown-ass conversation where they don't see eye to eye. I feel as if in our present vigilance to defend folks who can't defend themselves, which is indeed paramount and endemic to a civil, just society, some folks have begun to over-reach a tad bit with their understanding of what bullying really is. Straight up: you aren't being bullied if you can't hang in a conversation.

As for the term bitch, I will somewhat sidestep delving into the powder keg of how and why men use this word. There are an exhaustive number of theories, arguments, rationalizations, etc. that have been posited by both genders ad nauseum about this phenomenon. From my highly subjective point of view, all discussions about a man's use of this word should lead to one mere conclusion: it should not be used as common vernacular to address or refer to a woman - period. In the end, we men all have women in our lives - I hope at least one - that we adore and respect to the fullest. Thinking of them being referred by this word by some other man should always be a great stop mechanism for us to every casually refer to a woman as a bitch. From a personal point of view, Queen Latifah both enlightened and scared the shit of me in her 1994 jam U-N-I-T-Y: "Who you calling a bitch?/ U-N-I-T-Y/U-N-I-T-Y. No, I wouldn't want that beat down from her. But seriously, this is really a no-brainer. For the men who it isn't, then they simply have no brain.

What I find most interesting from a sociological perspective (I am a non-practicing sociology major), is the journey this word had taken from being highly derogatory towards a woman to a term of endearment among women - much like a certain ugly racial epithet we all know (and some love) so well. First and foremost, any woman eager to school me on this issue, class is always in session (i.e. I am eager to learn). Now, please understand that my interest in this sisterhood usage of bitch is not so I can use it in the same fashion, as sadly is the case with some men. I don't have a burning desire to approach a woman with the following salutation: "How are you doing today, bitch?" That would be as equally ludicrous and offensive as some non-folks of color who yearn to be able to use the n-word in the "endearing" way they see it used by black people  ("Gee, why can't I as your friend call you a .....?). No, as a man alien to the insular and complex nature of female inter-personal relationships, I have long sought some insight regarding what's going on with the usage of this word among y'all. All I have unearthed thus far in my research is a lot of inane chatter and hand-wringing about mean girls pathology being endemic in modern-day female relationships - both civil and uncivil. This notion just seems to reinforce long-held sexist stereotypes about women (e.g. women are like crabs in a barrel, inherently unable to play nicely with one another.) that men love to point out and reality television producers seek to televise.

On many occasions when I have heard this word used among other women, I have wanted to ask (with great trepidation) why the word was being uttered in a seemingly affectionate manner. Is this representative of post-modern feminism? Is this a way to simply identify a fellow member of a clique of strong, tough women (i.e. don't mess with us)? Going further, I have wondered if the same complicated, ugly dynamics that surround why a man uses this word are also in play when a woman uses it as well: insecurity, jealousy, a perceived implicit or explicit threat, etc.?  Basically, is calling your girl, BFF, homegirl a bitch just a passive aggressive way to deal with underlying issues you have with her, or other women in general? This would kind of lend credence to the aforementioned mean girls yik yak. Because this word has operated historically as the province of men to thoroughly, effectively demean women and reinforce power differences and inequities that exist between the genders, I am particularly confounded by its newfound term of endearment status. Now, if a woman's intention in using it is in fact to malign another woman, then there is my answer. But if it's not, using it casually seems particularly nihilistic, as it surely won't further the very necessary cause of female empowerment, which I am well aware not all women are concerned with. Anyway, it would be cool to have the veil lifted on what's going on here. If there's nothing, I shall move along. However, I don't think that is the case.

Finally, we come to bastards (How often does one say that, huh?). Of these three terms, this word has become the most de-fanged in modern times. When I hear someone call me...I mean some guy a bastard, I feel as if it takes me...I mean most guys a moment to even recognize this word as an insult. As a word generally reserved for men (sounds weird to call Casey Anthony a bastard), I would argue that there are a fair number of my gender nowadays who actually self-identify as a bastard. For them, they see the word as describing a rebel, a rule-breaker, a shit-disturber (in the best sense possible). Or there are some men who use it as an off-kilter way to describe themselves: I am a happy bastard, a fat bastard, a poor bastard, handsome bastard, etc. Maybe this is just grandiose self-mythology and/or gross immaturity, which many members of my gender are quite fond of. This aside, unlike my above inquiry regarding the underlying use of bully and bitch, my curiosity with this word pertains exclusively to whether it has any utility at all in 2012?

In my estimation, bastard has traditionally operated in two distinct ways. Let me start with the first one, which was really, really cruel. In previous generations, calling someone a bastard, which was ascribed to both genders (sad when gender parity comes by way of a diss; she is a bastard and so is he!), was particularly pernicious in two distinct ways: First, it called direct attention to the private and somewhat messy nature that sometimes surrounds procreation (Your mama was a loose woman, which is why you are a bastard./Your father was a rolling stone who kept on rolling out the front door and never came back to marry me, which is why you are a bastard.). Second, it firmly established your social status in society at that time - riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight at the bottom. It operated as a scarlet letter of sorts. Eeeevvvveeeerrrryyyybody knew you were a bastard back in the day. I imagine they used to say seemingly contradictory things like, "There goes that bastard Shannon, he sure is a nice guy." And I am sure they did so with no ill will intended, as it was common parlance. Although not good for one's self-esteem, it kind of made things nice and neat in separating the "good" people (i.e. legitimate) from the "bad" people (i.e. illegitimate), which was important back in the day. In today's America, for better or worse some may say, the circumstances that surround how you come into the word are a largely non-issue. It's really about what you do AFTER you get here. Today, calling someone of either gender a bastard in regard to their background will generally elicit a side-eye and a nonplussed response: "And?!" Yep, if you want to go hard on someone, you have to come harder in the New Millenium.

Beyond throwing shade on one's genesis, I see the word bastard as also historically providing women from the past to today the opportunity to succinctly put men on blast for the fuckery they by nature generally engage in (e.g. adultery). I imagine women even in the earliest of civilizations were freely using this word to describe men who just couldn't do right (e.g. cavemen coming back to the cave late at night with no damn good excuse). I am sure it is being used very, very frequently at this moment in the Petraeus household. I am sure his wife Holly is using this word to exclusively refer to her husband - it's not David anymore, it's you bastard. But although this word has given a voice to women, it's effectiveness in hurting or changing most men in the past or today has always been the same: not much. You see, despite the wide, wide range of incredibly trifflin' misdeeds a lot of men traffic in and get outed for in spectacular fashion, most are genetically immune to being shamed. Yes, as many of you women already know, it's like water off a duck's back to call a man a bastard.  Unfortunately, none of your creative uses of this word will somehow magically transform it into kryptonite either. I have heard some women use the following gems (not in regard to me) to shame a man to no avail: lazy-ass bastard, dumbass-why-am-I-with-you bastard, pathetic-drunk bastard, broke-and-going-nowhere-bastard, etc. Now, if a woman is going for acerbic comedic effect, then go for it (e.g. Donald Trump is a bloated, misogynistic, racist bastard.). Also, using it as an anachronistic (i.e. old-school) term to cause a man to pause momentarily (just a moment, though) to reflect on his misbehavior ("Wow, you called me a bastard and not the usual.......) - go for it. Sadly, it still won't have much long-term effect on changing him for the better. So, taking all of the aforementioned into account, what's up people calling me...I mean a guy...a bastard nowadays? Be more specific.

Moving past the search for what lies beneath using the three Bs (bully, bastard, bitch), one of the many awesome things about freedom of speech is our ability to co-opt certain historically derisive words, such as the ones above, however we please. There is no rulebook that says that we can't. Yes, despite the protests of obtuse politically incorrect folks, there are in fact no word police in existence. Again, that's why all three of these words are, in certain circles, terms of endearment.  Moreover, as an EFL instructor, a large part of my job is constantly finding effective ways to explain the rich complexity of the English language to non-native speakers. It's hard for them to understand that our language consists of words that have a very malleable quality to them. Because of this reason, it greatly underscores the necessity of teaching students to recognize the context of how words are used. Yes, there is sometimes something really, really interesting underlying even the simplest of words in the English language. The best example of this pertains to something our first African-American president Bill Clinton said in 1999 (Obama is our first bi-racial president, folks). During his sworn deposition regarding his affair with Monica Lewinsky, B.C. exhibited this truth in the grandest way possible. Despite the embarrassment (for the country, not Bill) of being the first sitting president to ever be subpoenaed to testify in a legal matter - let alone one of this nature, B.C. was a brilliant, masterful, yoda of wordplay and mind fucking. He re-phrased questions to his advantage, parsed his own answers, expounded on peripheral matters, and ate up all time allotted and previously agreed to for this expensive exercise in futility. The best part of this came when he said with a straight face: "Now, 'it' depends on what the definition of 'it' is in this situation, sir." Well, damn.

Peace.