Friday, September 21, 2007

JENA? A THOUSAND JENAS NOW!

A mass of protestors several times larger than the town itself descended on Jena in Louisiana yesterday.

This was an absurd and overblown demonstration by any standard. And everytime I see the usual suspects (King relatives, sneering Baptist ministers, and angry "spokesmen" or "leaders of the black community"), I get the same nauseated feeling in my stomach as when Bush or Cheney are on the television. Opportunists, hypocrites, swine.

Indeed, the trial of that young feller was a travesty. And the Jena six are being treated more harshly than a bunch of redneck good ole boys would've been in a similar situation.
But let us not forget that six of them ganged up on the victim.
I realize that holding to the idea that a fight should be fair and balanced is rather ridiculous and old-fashioned, but evenso.

Nevertheless, Jena was not about Jena. And there is good reason for frustration on the more richly pigmented side of the fence.



TO ILLUSTRATE

This morning I tried to flag down a taxi. On the corner opposite me, a black woman was trying to do the same. A very civilized looking black woman, clean, neat - an office worker late for work, or rushing to an appointment. In any case, both of us were clearly trying to get to the financial district, further down California street, on the other side of the hill.

An approaching taxi was heading towards the intersection, and I stopped waving. She had been there first, it was nearer to her than to me, and it would've been bad form to compete with her taxi-opportunity.

The taxi veered deliberately away from her, crossed the intersection, and stopped for me.

Did I mention that I am a white male?

I should have. I am as white and glow-in-the-dark as they come. I radiate honky.
I do not usually define myself solely in terms of gender and skin-hue, but in this case it seems appropriate, as it appears to bear greatly on what I am describing.

The taxi driver beckoned that I should get in. I shook my head and waved the taxi on.

Taking that taxi would, I feel, have been reprehensible. Either we all get treated equitably, or we all end up screwed.


I am not feeling particularly good about the experience, though, as I let a chance slip by. You see, I am not really a nice person - I have an immense streak of bitchy mean nasty a-hole in me. And this would've been a splendid opportunity to nurture that side, to have coaxed it into full riotous bloom. Fecund, rank, and gigantically unpleasant, like the Titan Arum.
I could have, and should have, and indeed would have if I had been awake enough, given that particular taxi-driver such a harangue that it would've generated nightmares and post-traumatic stress. Vented. Used pointed insults in several languages, cleanly and brutally analyzing the driver's family tree for several generations. Viciously and eloquently caused a crisis of confidence and identity that would have prompted a drastic career change. Induced fear, panic, and hysterical weeping.

My mean streak would have thoroughly enjoyed that.

Once more: Either we all get treated equitably, or we all end up screwed.
We need a thousand protests such as the one yesterday in Jena now.
Son-of-a-bitch.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

You coulda grabbed the taxi, and then held it so the black woman could join you in it, since you were both going the same direction

Anonymous said...

Better yet - grab the taxi - instruct him to the lady - then get out and totally reliquish the ride - Never say a cross word yet the point is made - much better than venting.
KR

Anonymous said...

"The taxi driver beckoned that I should get in. I shook my head and waved the taxi on.

Taking that taxi would, I feel, have been reprehensible. Either we all get treated equitably, or we all end up screwed.


I am not feeling particularly good about the experience, though, as I let a chance slip by. You see, I am not really a nice person"

This is what I would have done. Why? Because I'm a nice person. Dang too nice sometimes. I've got Aharon HaKohen's problem.

Search This Blog

MAY GET DIZZY, DON'T GET PREGNANT

After picking up my refills I mentally calculated how often I've been to that pharmacy. More times than my years of age. Which is not su...