HOW To Discuss

Some may be wondering why I gave a shout-out to the King City Police for their help today. I am always glad to see especially a small municipality choose to allocate their resources in ways that are helpful, and providing food to those who are in need and cannot go out is a great service. So, thanks for that decision, King City. 

You who know me know I am a social scientist and one thing that we social scientists really like is civil discourse. It turns out that my shout-out to the King City Police generated a pretty lively discussion, which is not really surprising, given the current social climate. For social scientists, when everyone doesn't agree - we're ok with that. So what I would like to do is talk about HOW to discuss things about which there is disagreement.

When I am teaching my students how to discuss controversial issues, there are rules. (When I explain the rules, I use first-person examples.) One of the rules is that no one gets to discount the experience of another. And that includes “whataboutism”. That’s when someone says something, and I reply with “yes, but what about…”. Nope. What is appropriate is for me to say “I am sorry that happened to you”. Or “that must have been tough”. Or “that sounds like a difficult situation”. Or, maybe to not say anything, and to ponder what the other person has said.

Another rule is that, as a white woman of privilege, I do not get to talk over a person of color when they are discussing their reality. So that means I do not talk over Jarra. And I do not talk over Eddie. Even though I have nieces who are women of color. And even though I have friends who are POC. And even though I have students who are POC. And even if I have gone out of my way to become educated and well-read. I still will never know what their experience is. Why? Because I cannot experience it myself. Now, please understand I am not talking about empathy. Yes, I can learn to empathize. But I cannot ever KNOW their experience. So it is not my place to tell them what is really so. I can speak to what I know personally, but I cannot speak to what they know. And what I know does not negate what they know.

Everyone is at a different place in their journey, and everyone’s journey is influenced by their experiences. I grew up with a father who worked as a police detective. He helped put people in prison who bilked old folks out of their life’s savings. He helped Southeast Asian immigrants in Portland keep their businesses afloat when they were being threatened by organized crime protection rackets. He investigated robberies and murders. So that is often the lens through which I have seen the police. But that is also my lens of being a white woman of privilege, who has never been threatened or violated by the police. We are seeing a much more militaristic and reactive police culture now than that in which my dad worked. The training is very different than when he used to teach at the police academy. And POC are disproportionately arrested and imprisoned. According to the UN, in 2016 27% of arrests in the US were of Black individuals, while the Black population of the US was 13%. Black and Hispanic Americans make up 29% of the overall population, but are 59% of the US prison population. These are just two statistics that are indicative of the huge systemic problem with race and American policing, and we haven't even looked at the historic role of policing and the Black community. This is the crux of the outcry against policing in the US. In the discussion thread on my post, Eddie says that by saying ACAB “we are not referring to the Person who is the cop. Cop is not an identity, it’s a uniform that a person chooses to put on every day. And with that choice comes complicity in a system that is BUILT on the oppression of Black bodies. So no, your uncle Steve who’s a cop isn’t a bad guy, but by being a cop he is choosing the side of the oppressor…”. Food for thought. Challenging concepts. Ideas for discussion. But not for “whataboutism”. And not for “my dad was a cop, and so I am an expert”. Or “I know Black people, and so I can speak for them”. And not "but not all cops..." Nope.

So, my request is that those who choose to post on my page follow the rules that I feel are important. And if you are not comfortable with my rules, feel free to post on another page. 

THE BLESSING - LEBANON

My friend Roula, a teacher who lives is Beirut, shared this video blessing that was created by musicians from a number of faith groups in Lebanon. Singers include Roula, her husband Bassem, and their daughter and son Samantha and Brandon.

These inclusive words are resonating with me today:

May His presence go before you
And behind you, and beside you
All around you, and within you
He is with you, He is with you

In the morning, in the evening
In your coming, and your going
In your weeping, and rejoicing
He is for you, He is for you

He is for you, He is for you
He is for you, He is for you

He is for you, He is for you

God is for you. Amen.  

THE BLESSING - LEBANON (link) 

June 5, 2020 was NOT graduation day at Tigard High

When I was a student teacher at Tigard High School in 1988, my mentor teacher (Joe Calpin) helped me encounter the full spectrum of the educator experience. Besides guiding me in how to plan and how to teach, he strongly suggested I assist with the JV softball team, which led to a 20+ year career coaching high school softball, mostly as a Varsity assistant for several different head coaches. And he insisted that I help with graduation, which was held that year at the Chiles Center on the University of Portland campus. As a life-long musician who has been involved in countless shows, I realized after the ceremony was over that graduation is The. Best. Show. Ever. It's an amazing production, with myriad moving parts that all come together to make a fantastic show, and the graduates are the stars. People are happy and rejoicing and for an evening, everyone is celebrating. And I have worked every Tigard High graduation since.

 

Education is a family affair

We have graduated out of our own stadium for over 20 years, and we do it up better than pretty much anyone. As Graduation Coordinator, I work with the Graduation Administrator and Senior Class Advisor, plus a fantastic support staff, and we've got our moves down. Reserving extra bleachers, ordering floral arrangements, auditioning seniors who want to provide musical entertainment, assisting valedictorians with their speeches, making arrangements for the fireworks show, printing entry tickets for friends and family. In early March, I met with the representative from the company that provides the sound support for our outdoor ceremony. Four days later, COVID-19 closed down all schools in Oregon. 

Such a jolt. Students immediately reached out and asked "What about the band trip?" "What about prom?" And, "We'll still have graduation, right??" And, not knowing what living during a time of pandemic means, the response was "We really have no idea - stay tuned and we'll let you know as soon as we know". The 1st thing that happened was the cancellation of the band Disney performance and clinic trip (we were supposed to be on a plane on March 21). Then prom. And Spring sports. And school became an online phenomenon, invented and re-invented as we go along. And then, in-person graduation was cancelled. 

Many things have been done in the interim to make sure that our seniors will be celebrated. Online meetings with student representatives. Suggestions from parents. Graduation committee meetings. Countless conversations with technical experts. Drive-thru senior cap and gown pickup with yard signs, balloons, music, and Kessler's fog machine. Updates from the Oregon Department of Education. Directives from TTSD administration. More graduation committee meetings.

Graduation balloon pillar

Fast-forward to today, June 5. The calendar says Tigard High Graduation - 7:30 pm. And family is not gathered in the stadium. Students are not in the gym, adjusting their gowns. I do not have a microphone in my hand and I am not saying to them "TIGARD HIGH SCHOOL, ARE YOU READY TO DO THIS???" as we line them up in a serpentine to process out of the gym and down to the field. There is no presentation of the colors, no band playing Pomp and Circumstance (nod to Edward Elgar), no array of 15 seats x 15 rows x 2 sections on the turf with a wide aisle to accommodate two lines of robed and capped seniors marching in to cheers. There is instead, an odd emptiness hanging over the evening. 

The stadium scoreboard, lit up for the Class of 2020

And then at 7 pm, my daughter (THS Librarian and Graduation Assistant) started laughing and showed me the Doppler radar and the hourly weather forecast. With our outdoor venue, weather is always stress-producing, some years more than others. [Several years ago, with possible lightening activity in the forecast (!), local meteorologist Sally Showman graciously texted back and forth with me all day, helping us decide that yes, we WOULD be safe to go through with our outdoor celebration.] And now, this first year in decades with no stadium graduation happening, the thunder and lightening was upon us. A cosmic joke, perhaps?  

Active weather, right over THS. Just as the prelude music should be starting.

Graduation this year looks different, and yet similar. Valedictorian speeches will still be heard, but have been recorded for the virtual ceremony. Students have auditioned for musical entertainment as well, for that same taped celebration. Valedictorians and IB Diploma candidates were presented with their medals and hoods, during a drive-around delivery by administrators and senior teachers. A teacher chosen by the students will offer words, school board members will congratulate, and the Senior Class and ASB Presidents will turn their tassels, all on tape. And there will be a drive-thru ceremony on June 20, where one graduate at a time will get out of their car in Cook Park for their diploma and photo op with administration. Friends and family will be able to watch, thanks to a local media company that will help us out with live-streaming in a location that normally has no WiFi.

June 5, 202 was NOT graduation day at Tigard High. But June 20 WILL be. AccuWeather says it's supposed to be quite nice. But I might shoot Sally Showman a message, just in case.

 Looks like a nice day

 

Important Words To Hear

Kevin Henderson was my student five years ago. Kind, funny, polite, smart - the type of student who is an asset in any group. Now, he is a man who has words we all need to hear. Please, read what he has to say:


I am overwhelmed by immense grief. I’ve been trying to find creative ways to channel all of the pain I’ve felt, but there is no response but grief. I can’t stop seeing George Floyd’s face. Or Tony McDade’s. Or Breonna Taylor’s. Or Ahmaud Arbery’s. Or Sandra Bland’s. Or Eric Garner’s. Or hundreds of others. I am constantly viewing a mental photo album of Black lives that have been taken and it has been painful, overwhelming, and draining. I see my brothers in these faces. I see my sisters and my father and my aunties and uncles. I see myself in these faces. I remember being 11 years old and being placed in handcuffs multiple times at school. I remember being stopped and told that I “fit the description of a known suspect” on college campuses multiple times. I remember driving home from work at midnight and seeing a police car flash their lights, make a u-turn, and tailgate me for the next four miles. Most of all, I remember feeling blessed that my anxiety didn’t turn into reality. I don’t have the ability or emotional capacity to adequately express how traumatic this constant barrage of Black death has been. I’m hurt and I know my people are hurting. To all the Black folks in my life and beyond, I love you. So fully and unconditionally.

George Floyd’s death has caused a massive uproar on social media. This has been accompanied by an incredibly frustrating amount of non-Black opinions and interpretations of Blackness, activism, and oppression. This shit needs to get checked, plain and simple.

If you’re not Black and you’re outraged— good. You should be. But you should also understand that your outrage needs to take a backseat to Black leadership. The protests in Portland were hijacked. In Eugene, hijacked. And in plenty of other places, they’ve been hijacked. White demonstrators are taking advantage of a Black oppression and pushing Black people out. How the fuck do you gentrify protests? If your goal is truly to stand against the oppression of Black people, then defer to the leadership of Black people. And if that includes fiery protests, then let that shit burn. But white folks don’t get to light a fuse that’s threaded with the same material as nooses. Check your privilege at the door.

A lot of folks are sharing a tweet that states, “Saying ALM as a response to BLM is like saying the fire department should spray down all houses in a neighborhood even though only one house is one fire because all houses matter”. You may think this is a great display of allyship and is so clever, but to that I would say: I am not a fucking burning house. My Black is not a hindrance or an oppression— my Black is beautiful. When Black people are being targeted, the problem is not that they are Black. The problem is that there are people with power and privilege who fear Blackness and act upon it. Continuing with the analogy, the problem is not a burning house. The problem is that someone is trying to burn a house down. If you view Blackness as a burning house, you are denouncing the inherent beauty of Blackness and showing your savior complex. Check your privilege at the door.

If you’re only present about the killing of unarmed presumably straight, cisgendered Black men, then you are missing the point. Black women, Black trans women, Black trans men, and Black people of all sexualities are being targeted. If you’re ignoring the intersections between gender and sexuality when it comes to violence against Black people, then you aren’t standing for the liberation of all Black people. Check your privilege at the door. 

I shouldn’t have to say this— stop sharing photos and videos of Black people being murdered. It’s incredibly triggering and only serves to satisfy a morbid craving for observing Black death. Every time I’m on a knee to rest, or move around, or grab something, or anything at all, I immediately see George Floyd’s face beneath that officer's knee. I feel lucky that I wasn’t underneath his knee but I breathe cautiously, knowing that I damn well could be.

A Fairly Longwinded Tale of Unanticipated Excitement

A little background:

I remodeled a house to create a multi-generational living situation. The lower level was completely redone before occupancy, and the upstairs kitchen/dining area was remodeled this past winter, by a different contractor. There is shared space upstairs, my daughter has her own space on that same level, and my space is downstairs. And my other daughter lives two houses over. This is all relevant to our tale.

I am very happy with the engineering and structural changes that my first contractor did in the lower level, and the sheetrock work was first-rate. However, there were some errors made in some of the finish work that caused increased costs and distress, and periodically I have found additional issues that are left over from that work. This is also relevant to our tale.

Monday afternoon:

The upstairs cat comes and visits several times a day, and sometimes has an upset tummy. I was sitting on my couch in my living space, and I saw something on the rug under the bookcase. From 10 feet away, it appeared to have been a small string of cat barf. That would be gross, but not unheard of. I got a paper towel and walked toward the bookcase, but something was not quite right. I bent over to look, and I realized it was a slender little brown snake. (!) About 5-6 inches long, and as big around as a small earthworm. (BTW, slender little brown snakes in North America are harmless. But they still should not be In. The. House.)

 

(not the actual snake)

I hate snakes. 

No, really. When I see a photo of a snake in a magazine or online, I turn the page or scroll past. Quickly. Don't even want to look. If I encounter one outside, I just say "Hi, snake" and walk the other way - the outdoors is their space. But a snake in my house? Nope. Nope. Nope.

Now, if you know me, you know that I am a fairly bold individual, and I typically jump into "let's fix this!" mode. And there is NO WAY I was going to approach this slender little snake. Nope. I moved quickly to the stairs and called to my daughter Eryn to come down RIGHT NOW. She confirmed that, yes, it's a snake, and oh - the snake was now on the move. At which point I jumped behind the couch. There may have been a little shrieking. And she jumped back as well, without the shrieking. We quickly decided that we needed someone to save us from this slender little snake, so I called Liz - my other daughter. Because her husband has to be around other people at work, we have been properly socially distancing since March, and she has not been in my house since then. But, to quote Hippocrates, desperate times call for desperate measures. Liz gloved and masked up and came right over from her house to save us from the slender little snake, coaxing it into a container and releasing it out into the backyard. Whew! 

But, how did the snake get into the house? We discussed and dismissed a number of ideas, and nothing really made sense. Hmmm. 

Monday evening:

After having a nice Memorial Day BBQ and fire pit in the backyard with my kids (socially distant, of course), I sat down in my living space to watch the 10 PM  news after cleaning up my downstairs kitchen area. The upstairs cat was visiting and kept walking over and staring at the backdoor, and I finally got up and went over to look at what she was seeing. There, on my kitchen floor, was a tiny slug. On my kitchen floor. About 1/2 of an inch long. A slug. On my kitchen floor. 

I sent a series of texts to Eryn, as I tried to figure out #1, how did the slug get in my kitchen and #2, what would work best to remove it. And then, a solo slug visit became a party of two.

 

(The person whose name is blocked out we will call "Tom". His name is not "Tom".)

Eryn came downstairs (again), with a flashlight. There was no shrieking from either of us - we are apparently not as freaked out about slugs. They just don't belong in the house. Ever.

At this point, I was determined to thwart any additional invasion attempts by belly-crawling creatures who may have decided that my house is a nice place to visit, and began to investigate how in the world they were getting in (after scooping each slug onto a small trowel and returning them to the outside). The flashlight helped us determine that no other creatures had gotten in, and that the space around my backdoor threshold was not sealed properly. My well-stocked garage includes various tubes of silicone sealant, and I embarked upon home repair. At 11:00 at night. Which I should not have been doing, if "Tom" had done his job. This was not the first evidence of "Tom" not doing his job, which is why there was a different contractor for the 2nd phase of my remodel, but that is something for another story, another time.

Tuesday:

The silicone seems to have done its job - it has filled in the previously unsealed area, and there are no belly-crawling creatures in my house.  It is my hope that this is the end of the Unanticipated Excitement.

I hate snakes.

Sometimes, Things Resonate

My friend Gregg is a writer who speaks truth - sometimes touching, sometimes soothing, sometimes painful, always honest. His words here are words worth sharing, for those who need to hear.

 Take the time to read. You will be blessed.

CLICK HERE TO READ: Gregg Koskela - Needy