Saturday, September 26, 2020

The Immortal SPB

 I asked my daughter to contribute her Top 15 SPB songs for all time and this is her list. She also said that she doesn't feel sad at his demise because and I quote "if there is anyone who has a shot at immortality it is him as his songs will live on forever!" So here is her list, not in any particular order.

  1. Megam Kottatum
  2. Keeravani
  3. Autokaran Autokaran
  4. Summa Kizhi
  5. Ilamai Enum
  6. Oruvan Oruvan
  7. Poonthalir Aada
  8. Ilaya Nila
  9. Malayoram Veesum
  10. Mama Un Ponna
  11. Madai Thiranthu
  12. Chinna Mani
  13. Tholin Mele
  14. Paadi Parantha Kili
  15. Sangeetha Jaathi Mullai

Enjoy!

 

 

Covid Obituaries

This week I lost two people in India to COVID. They were both 74 years old. One was the legendary singer S.P. Balasubrahmanyam who provided the sound track of my life. The other was my aunt who was with me for many of my firsts. Although I never met the former, and hadn't seen the latter in nearly a decade both the losses feel extremely personal.

My aunt was one of those rare persons in my family who spoke multiple Indian languages and English. She was my aunt by her marriage to my maternal uncle, which explains her linguistic abilities as we just didn't have the genes for it in ours. She was one of the most cheerful people I ever knew. It did not mean she had a trouble free life. She just had the knack of having a sparkling smile and welcoming face no matter what. She, with my uncle, was always there for all my important first steps - my first school, my first job, my first trip abroad - and they, along with my parents set me up for success. She also took care of my maternal grandmother (her Mother-in-law) as though she was her own mother. That's something I would always remember her for. Yes, my grandmom was amazing, but caring for a 97 year old when you yourself are 70 and doing it with cheer is not easy. My uncle has a gruff exterior although he is one of the kindest people I know. You need time to warm up to him. My aunt smoothed his rough edges and made him palatable to strangers. Her death was untimely and completely avoidable. She had breathing issues but unfortunately an overrun medical system unable to handle COVID patients failed her as she could not get a doctor or a hospital to take her in. This fact is going to remain with my uncle and my cousin for a long time. She was a collateral damage to COVID and she will be sorely missed!

COVID also claimed the life of a legend this week. Growing up in Chennai in the '70s to '90s there was one thing constant in my life - seasons, politics, friends, interests and tastes change, life ebbs and flows - but throughout it all the voice of SPB was the one constant.  Tamil Nadu is famous for its polarizing dualities - MGR or Sivaji; ADMK or DMK; Kamal or Rajini; (and like that's even possible) Illayaraja or Rahman - but everyone and I mean EVERYONE unified around the voice of SPB. You get a bunch of Tamils in a room, sooner or later we will end up discussing Illayaraja + SPB songs. I definitely went through phases in my musical taste - I learned Carnatic, listened to a lot of pop, love alternate rock and even some metal, now I listen to opera. But once again throughout it all, SPB never left my life. I had seen him in live shows when I was in my undergrad in Chennai and then again in 2012 in California where he mesmerized my then 7 year old who also grew up with his music. I don't remember a day when we didn't have his voice in our midst. One of the earliest memories of my childhood was my brother's Kindergarten "interview". He was 3 and I was 7. My mom desperately wanted him to get into this school as it was close to our home and near mine - as a working mom this was critical for her. But you can't prepare a 3 year old who had a mind of his own! When asked what was his name, he belted out a "My name is Billa". The interviewer burst out laughing, much to the relief of my mother. He was then asked to sing a song (she didn't say rhyme) and so he did - another SPB tune. Subconsciously he covered both bases (Rajini and Kamal) and one can safely assume that the teacher must have been a SPB fan as the school did pick him! My brother and I never agreed on anything until we became adults, but SPB was the one great unifier in our childhood. SPB was with us for all occasions. He sang in 16 Indian languages and he was the one, before globalization and Rupert Mudroch invading our skies, who taught us the numerous genres of music - from disco to Indian classical. There was nothing he could not do. Dulcet tones with emotive power that stirred something deep within us - no wonder he was also a terrific actor although he only acted in a handful of movies. When I moved to the US I made a list of some of my favorite tunes (a couple of hundred) and my dad and brother got them recorded for me in tapes and shipped them for me.  My daughter who was born in the US and grew up here, not fluent in Tamil, certainly doesn't understand the lyrics, has a playlist in her iPod for SPB! This is a child who learns the piano, loves Radiohead, Spoon, Imagine Dragons, Adele, Massive Attack and she still thinks SPB is special. There is a SPB for every occasion, she says. We were in Iceland a couple of summers back with our friends, and our kids were being DJs and suddenly they would say "it's time for some good SPB" and there he was -  in Iceland, in our van, two families from two different parts of India with kids born and raised in the US listening to his voice! It didn't feel surreal, it felt natural. He was 74 when he passed and normally I would say he had a good life, left us a collection of 40,000 songs, enough for multiple lifetimes. Anyone else, I would say their best days were behind them. But not him - he had so much more to offer. He was 74 when he sang this song (one of his last) - a mindless, opening number - but the energy in his voice is pure magic, that my 15 year old once played it non-stop over a weekend. In Tamil Nadu music he was with us for three golden periods - MSV, Illayaraja and A.R.Rahman - three generations of composers and towards the end of his life sang for composers who as kids grew up listening to him. He was truly ageless that I never imagined there would be a time when we will not have any more new songs from him. This loss feels personal because his voice was personal to each and everyone of us and losing this constant almost feels like the loss of a parent.  I was lucky to have had him in my life and thankful for the joy and comfort he provided. Here is a list of my favorites which will remain with me forever

 

1. Sangeetha Megam - A song that eulogizes him 

2.Unakenna Mele Nindrai

3. Sangeetha Jathi Mullai

4. Pani vizhum

5. Sundari Kannal

6. Roja Ondru

7. Chinna Mani

8. Andhi Mazhai

9. Ilaya Nila

10. Namma Ooru Singari

11. Singalathu China Kuyile

12. O Vasantha Raja

13. Ada Mapillai

14. Anjali Anjali

15. Engeyum Epodhum

Tuesday, September 22, 2020

Oceans, Cosmere, Roman Lawyers & Millenial Romance - Books of September

I spent the last couple of months tackling not one, but four, 1000 pagers. I have survived and am here to say that the effort was worth it. The Boundless Sea  by David Abulafia, a human history of the oceans, was the only non-fiction of the 4.

The Boundless Sea is a fabulous book meticulous in its details, rich in colorful characters and set a number of facts straight for me. Growing up in India, ironically we accepted texts that stated Vasco Da Gama discovered India, much like Columbus' discovery of America! These statements not only ignored the presence of native population, they also ignored the seafaring adventures across the oceans by the indigenous people of these nations long before Europeans entered into the picture. Until the arrival of European adventurers the oceans were mainly used by traders, and successful trading usually involved learning another culture and customs. Abulafia's book is full of tales about how religions like Buddhism spread through the oceans, evidences of Greeks worshiping Indian Gods, a settlement of Jewish people in India, seals that bear inscriptions from multiple languages. However, the Portuguese and Spanish with the help of Italian seafarers took this to the next level. The big change that the Europeans brought about was the concept of conquest and colonization to control trade routes usually in search of a particular hot commodity. Human history of the oceans appears to be a human history of commodities - myrrh and frankincense, amber, spices (pepper and cinnamon especially), salt, herrings, tea, fur, and later sugar and cotton which in turn led to slavery. Abulafia could have told the story from the point of view of these products and our insatiable need for them. The oceans connect all corners of the earth, so it was no surprise that especially in the 15th century two key factors connect history of all humanity 1) The importance of the Indian & Chinese spice/tea trade to all European nations 2) European Christians wanting to avoid the Red Sea and the Islamic centers of trade in their effort to control the Indies. The colonization of the New World was because of this arms race to discover a route to India and that race determined winners and losers in multiple continents with consequences till date.

This book is not for the faint hearted or those with poor upper body strength (I got a physical copy - a mistake). Many days I wondered if it was for me too as it was just too much information to process! But Abulafia is a great storyteller and the book deserves the Wolfson History prize. If you don't want to read the book I recommend listening to this interview


 I was introduced to Brandon Sanderson by my daughter. This marked a big moment in our mother-daughter relationship. I remember when I started curating books and movies for my dad and it is inevitable I am at that stage right now. I am a big fan of Sci-fi/ Fantasy/ Speculative fiction. I like to think I don't distinguish between hi-brow literature and genre fiction. I love the great masters of the genre from Tolkien, Frank Herbet, GRR, Ursula Le Guin, Margaret Atwood, Octavia Butler, Neil Gaiman and recently Neal Stephenson, Ann Leckie. I regularly check out the Hugo/Nebula/ Locus award winners. But it's been a long time since I was consumed by an epic fantasy like that of Sanderson's. I have to say he is truly the Tolkien for this generation, and yes I am ranking him higher than GRR! I read Mistborn and Stormlight (3 books in each series) in a span of 2 months and they are still with me. The world creation, character arcs, the plot, the magic systems and the no-gimmick and no-pandering style is just so refreshing. The depth of philosophy and religion in these books and the emphasis on civil discourse is fantastic! Most Sci-fi/fantasy writers fall into the liberal/ atheist category and then there are people like Orson Scott Card who holds despicable views. It is hard to separate art from the artist (which is why I can't bring myself to read Ender's Game or Mists of Avalon). Sanderson doesn't shy away from religion in his books and his life but is not a bigot and doesn't have a hidden agenda to spread the beliefs of LDS. In fact the struggle between the Parshendi and humans in Stormlight seemed to me, a commentary on the relationship between the Paiutes and Mormons in Utah. What is the nature of god when we seem to be tearing each other apart, what does it mean to live a life of honor when everything around you has gone to dogs, what does it mean for a god to die and how does an atheist and a believer react to that - these are all questions raised and discussed in the Cosmere universe, and I found the arguments intellectually stimulating. In one of my favorite quotes from his book a character says (and I paraphrase) a hypocrite is someone who is in the process of changing and without change and flow we cannot evolve. In these times when we are so polarized, listening to another, discussing, understanding and evolving are all crucial if we want to solve existential problems. Sanderson is also very generous as he puts up all his lectures on writing on Youtube something my daughter truly appreciated. I was hesitant to pick up Stormlight as I know he has planned 10 books in this series and has completed only 3. I am already waiting for Winds of Winter from GRR  and it feels like an eternity, so I was hesitant to pick up an unfinished series. But the opportunity to read something with my daughter over the next 15 years was too great to pass up and I am richer for it. Now we both are waiting for the fourth book coming this thanksgiving.



RBG's passing was a sad day not just for women but for all underdogs. We shouldn't forget that one of her most successful gender discrimination case was won by her defending the right of a man to collect social security benefits as a home maker! The crazy election cycle just got crazier and I did not want to get sucked into a vortex of negativity. Instead, as a tribute to RBG I spent the day re-reading Mary Beard's Women and Power - A Manifesto. In Western civilization it looks like the first feminists were all lawyers - Maesia and Afrania who both went to court and were ridiculed for their androgyny - an outspoken woman has to be unnatural after all! So it seemed fitting that a petite, gentle lawyer had to school this country on gender equality. As Mary Beard states the problems are deep rooted and structural and as ancient as western civilization and dismantling these structures is going to take time. RIP RBG. The rest of us have work to do to make sure all the gains you made for us are not lost.


The other book I finished this month was Normal People by Sally Rooney which made everyone's list include President Obama's. I didn't think this book would appeal to me as I was not the target audience (or so I thought) but I was pleasantly surprised by the writing. I soon found myself absorbed by Marianne's and Connell's "relationship" - was it friendship or friendship with benefits? If you remember Seinfeld The Deal and thought how funny it was, take that premise subtract the jokes, add in smartphones + social media, depression, violence, alienation, class conflicts you get Normal People. Maybe it is the pandemic but I felt that as we all experience social isolation we realize that it is important to have at least one other person that we can absolutely lean on and in Normal People the two protagonists realize that they have been that person for each other but do not seem to have the ability to articulate that. Can tweets, tiktoks and texts help a human connect at a deeper level with another? At the risk of sounding like a Luddite, I have to say that I found that Marianne and Connell (despite being well read, intelligent people who cared for each other) could not communicate openly and this thwarted communication was at the root of all their troubles.

Anyway those were the books of this past month. I am trying a few books now and while non-fiction has been easy to find, I am yet to get Stormlight out of my system and so the quest for fiction books for next month is still ongoing.

Tuesday, September 1, 2020

Grace and Grief

 I remember the day I took my daughter to a double feature. We were going to see "A Wrinkle in Time" and "Black Panther" back to back. I had been trying to get my daughter to watch superhero movies and somehow she was never drawn to them. When I walked into the theater I assumed she would love Wrinkle, a book she and I read together when she was 7 and maybe not enjoy Panther. It turned out to be the opposite! She found the colorful world of  Wrinkle in the movie not jive with her mental image of the world from the book. On the other hand, she fell in love with Black Panther. There was something about the movie that appealed to her and since then we watched the 20 odd Avenger movies and she still ranks Black Panther as her favorite. The movie brought joy to billions and we were no exceptions. You didn't have to be black to appreciate what a force for good that movie was. Believe me, I have seen Indiana Jones Temple of Doom and know a thing or two about stereotypes in Hollywood. But Panther arguably did more than even Henry Louis Gates Jr's brilliant documentary on Africa to challenge Eurocentric (which is inevitably white-centric) views of the world. So, the death of Chadwick Boseman came as a shock to me like it did for the world. But I was unprepared for the intensity to which it would affect me.


I don't know why the death of Chadwick Boseman has hit me hard. I am a cancer-hardened veteran who has lost my dad, two uncles, one of my closest cousins, a couple of friends and more relatives to cancer in the span of 17 years. But this one felt as personal as the deaths in my family. Maybe it was just this man's gentle, lightning smile. Maybe it was his grace and dignity that we saw on and off screen but is now 100X magnified knowing that all that grace was despite facing something as horrendous as cancer. Maybe it was the premium he put on his privacy. But him going through his treatments and still showing up to the sets to bring joy to the world as Black Panther transcends greatness. 
 
Till date, I had only my dad as a model for grace in the face of an uphill struggle against cancer.  He was funny, joking and making light of his struggles, thoughtful about his caregivers and the nurses in his hospice till the very end. But in a few rare moments he confessed to me that he was tired of fighting and wanted the end to be quick and made me promise to not put him on life support in case he went into a coma. Cancer can do that to you. Somehow Boseman's death brought back all those intense feelings.
 
17 years back just after my dad died I found comfort in Rainier NP under the gaze of the mountain. I had not shed any tears in India as I had to make room for my mom's grief and also had to handle the funeral. It was in Rainier amidst the wilderness, in that solitude,  that I finally found the space to come to terms with my own grief. I was in Sequoia NP when I found out about Boseman's passing and standing under those trees I sought comfort and saw his spirit in those giants.Very often when people die we collectively remember only their good things. In my dad's case I knew that was all there was to remember. He was 59 when he passed. In my mind he is always the Atticus of Mocking Bird and never the old, cynical,  grumpy Atticus of Go Set a Watchman as he never reached that age and I believe his basic nature wouldn't have changed much. I have a feeling Boseman was like that. The goodness that people attribute to him is not simply a case of remembering only the good. It feels like that was the sum total of his soul. May he rest in peace.
 

 

Saturday, August 15, 2020

Wordsworth for the Weary

 As you can see from the last few posts, being cooped up inside for nearly 6 months has guided my reading in one specific direction. Being deprived of the great outdoors I am vicariously living through literature. Jonathan Bate's Radical Wordsworth was not just about satiating my need for nature. It also had a lot to do with human connection. Come September, I will celebrate 25 years of friendship with two special people with whom I had the pleasure to visit Grasmere and other places in the Lake District  that were fundamental to Wordsworth's poetry.

In Tintern Abbey, the prophet of nature wrote

Though absent long

These forms of beauty have not been to me,

As is a landscape to a blind man's eye;

But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din

Of towns and cities, I have owed to them,

In hours of weariness, sensations sweet 

Grasmere and the lakes of Lake District have offered similar sweet sensations to my weary mind especially during this pandemic. Back in 1997 my friends and I were  23, carefree, just getting started in our careers and had the opportunity to work and travel in the UK albeit each in a different city. Since then a lot has happened in our lives, both ups and downs and we've pursued our own interests. However, it has remained a steady friendship, a constancy in our lives without the need for instant gratification and frequent validation. We don't care where the other person works, what their title is, what their career progression has been. We are not connected on Facebook, LinkedIn and we don't even talk frequently.  As I get older I cherish the friendship even more now than I did in 1995. There are so many reasons that I am grateful to them for, but in the context of this post I am especially grateful that they humored my whims and wishes about the places I wanted to see in the UK and offered me their companionship.



 



Bate says he wrote this book for "anybody who raises an eyebrow when the poet's name is mentioned and the only word that comes to mind is daffodils." That was surely the case for us when we visited Grasmere back then. Since then I went on to read more of his verses from Lyrical Ballads for my M.A. in English and I am positive the other two have not read much Romantic poetry. Reading Bate's biography was going to be an opportunity for me to once more savor the landscape and the friendship and while it certainly achieved that, it offered me so much more. 

Wordsworth often lamented about the fact of growing up. Growing up meant that the unity between the body, the self and the environment gets broken and the only way to recapture that "primal spirit" was through poetry and memory. As I was house cleaning during the pandemic, I chanced upon my daughter's journal from first grade and she had written "I want powers to like everything I already like when I grow up. So that I can pass my thoughts to my children." Here was a 6 year old who seems to know that as adults we forget the simple things we loved as kids and she never wanted to lose that ability! 

 

Wordsworth's poems gave me insights into my daughter's sensibility. If I am Jane Austen's Elinor, my daughter is certainly Marianne and spontaneity and deep feeling are just first nature to her when they are not even remotely third nature to me. Yet, to my credit (even if i say so myself) I have not let my "sense" completely crush my daughter's "sensibility." She loves the outdoors and when I see her seek some "alone time" at the beach or in the woods with her "favorite tree" I am pleased to recognize

    In nature and the language of the sense

    The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse

    The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul

    Of all my moral being

 

One of her lamentations is how in high school the emphasis is already on college and she feels she is on a treadmill that she never asked to get on. On top of that the racism, sexism, environmental disaster of contemporary times is crushing children with feelings of guilt even though it is not their fault. Dealing with all this baggage in isolation is worse. Childhood seems to have vanished in the past year. This sense of loss of childhood is one felt acutely by Wordsworth and he writes with hope that "The Child is Father of the Man"

    My heart leaps up when I behold

        A Rainbow in the sky:

    So was it when my life began;

    So is it now I am a Man;

    So be it when I shall grow old,

        Or let me die!

While childhood is hard to recapture, the things that restore childhood can be found in nature and the ability to be excited by a rainbow can remain with one all their life. This is my hope for her and the generations coming after us. They will have wild landscapes available to inspire and restore them.  

Bate's biography also introduces us to a few characters who I had never heard of but who were instrumental in his poetical and political development. I specifically wanted to mention two. Helen Maria Williams an abolitionist, an anti-imperialist and a poet of great talent who wrote sensitive nature poetry was one who inspired Wordsworth. The other was an eccentric man called John Stewart known popularly as "walking Stewart" - an 18th century Forrest Gump. He never rode in carriages because "they were both elitist and cruel to horses" and he had "walked halfway around the world from Madras, through Persian, Arabia, Abyssinia, much of North Africa and every country in Europe as far as Russia." Walking Stewart introduced Spinoza's ideas of pantheism and the belief that God can be found in nature to Wordsworth.

The second half of Wordsworth's life was dreary as he deviated from his principles of his youth. His poetry became monotonous and not very inventive and he lived for a really long time unlike other Romantic poets who lived hard and died young and in glory. Bate purposefully presents only a "lightning sketch" of the second half of the poet's life. Despite the gradual decline, he argues that Wordsworth is still relevant "because he reminds us ... to cherish a child's way of looking at the world. Because he wrote with unprecedented sympathy for the poor, the excluded, the broken... Because his elegian poetry can speak to us when we are bereaved...he foresaw that among the consequences of modernity would be not only the alienation of human beings from each other, but also potentially irretrievable damage to the delicate balance between our species and our environment."

These past few weeks of reading Wordsworth has taken me back to my past and also given me glimpses into the future. I remember the day we walked around Ullswater in the summer of 1997. There were no dancing daffodils to greet us, but we had "laughing company". Someday I wish to go back to Grasmere with my husband and daughter and see these landscapes once again

    For oft when on my couch I lie

    In vacant or in pensive mood,

    They flash upon that inward eye

    Which is the bliss of solitude

    And then my heart with pleasure fills,

    And dances with the Daffodils.



Monday, July 13, 2020

Reading Thoreau Under Lockdown

A dose of Thoreau in the right quantity is good for anyone, anytime. But if there ever was a perfect time to delve into him - this is it! I first came to Thoreau by way of Gandhi, but visiting Walden in the winter of 2010 set me on a path of no-return. Since then, I returned physically to Walden in the summer of 2014, read more transcendental literature and was eagerly looking forward to a trip this Christmas in preparation for which I was going to read Walden (again) and read Laura Dassow Walls' latest biography of him. That trip is up in the air now but this past month of (re) reading Thoreau has comforted me despite the madness that is the world today.




My daughter asked me one night as to why I admire Thoreau so much and I realized that it was the Thoreauvian idea of simplify, simplify, simplify that I admired the most! Thoreau challenges me to live deliberately and get to the truth of my existence. He proclaimed in Walden "My greatest skill has been to want but little" and this is a skill I aspire to. I also seek membership into his "Knights of umbrella and bundle" - but alas despite being a lighter traveler I am not there yet.

Thoreau is commonly perceived as a hermit, almost a misanthrope. (Also people need to read his full quote about Government. He didn't say no government at once, but called for a better government immediately!) He was a dutiful son, a loving brother, a loyal friend, and an inspiring mentor. The more I read about him I feel like he was the true renaissance man after Da Vinci. An inventor of graphite pencils, a civil surveyor, a botanist and birder, a naturalist of some repute, an Indian ethnographer, an ardent abolitionist (credit to his mom and other women of his household) , an inspiring speaker who combined wit and wisdom, and not to mention a wonderful philosopher and writer - he wore many hats and was truly a jack of all trades. He was also a man of contradictions and someone who struggled with the conflict - hated hunting but couldn't give up meat, was eager to learn from natives but at times dismissed their myths, made a living by surveying which in turn destroyed the woods he adored.

He was a man ahead of his times and is therefore a man for all seasons. When he lamented that "men have become the tools of their tools" I see a commentary on the modern day walking texting phone zombies. When he complains that "those things for which most money is demanded are never the things which the student most wants" I am reminded of Hassan Minhaj's piece on if colleges are still worth it. When he wrote about the cable under the Atlantic he commented it appeared that the goal seemed to be "to talk fast and not to talk sensibly... After all, the man whose horse trots a mile a minute does not carry the most important messages" -  he could have been writing about our penchant for tweets. And before Jon Stewart critiqued the 24 hour news cycle Thoreau observed "Hardly a man takes a half hour's nap after dinner but when he wakes he holds up his head and asks, "What's the news" as if the rest of mankind had stood his sentinels."

Before we conclude he was just a 19th century equivalent of a late-night comic wielding satire as his only weapon, we should remember the courage with which he spoke up for John Brown when the entire nation seemed to disown him, even the abolitionists. In A Plea for Captain John Brown we witness Thoreau referring to death as an honor conferred only upon the select few who knew how to live. However, the death of such an honorable person enrages him especially because society determines him to be a failure. He states, “They talk as if a man’s death were a failure, and his continued life, be it of whatever character, were a success.” The death of John Brown was not simply the death of a man, but the death of a principle, and he regarded this event "as a touchstone designed to bring out with glaring distinctness the character of this government." In 2020 we witnessed the death of George Floyd and his death revealed more about the character of our government than anything else. We were all implicated in his death and this is a feeling that Thoreau was familiar with. Walls states

“Thoreau was a haunted man. He and everyone he knew were all implicated: the evil of slavery, the damnation of the Indian, the global traffic in animal parts, the debasement of nature, the enclosure of the ancient commons - the threads of the modern global economy were spinning him and everyone around him into a dehumanizing web of destruction"

This is probably one of the reasons that Thoreau resonates even today when we as a species are faced with two main crises. One is the existential threat to the planet, its wildlife and its wilderness. The other is the world we are creating on the back of always-on, always-connected technology that fuels the gig-economy that makes us all expendable. In today’s screen-filled world where real nature is replaced by virtual reality, where privacy is rendered non-existent and voyeurism has become acceptable, the transcendentalists, especially Thoreau offer real solutions. Reclaiming wild lands and with it our wild spirits, getting comfortable in solitude by shutting out distractions and being disconnected, and living deliberately as opposed to instagramming every moment is needed now more than ever. Reading Thoreau is a reminder to myself of what I truly aspire to and how far away I am from my ideal. But as he said in Walden this is not an "ode to dejection, but to brag lustily as chanticleer in the morning only to wake" myself up.


Sunday, May 31, 2020

Property & People - the true pandemic in America

It has been hard to write anything these past few weeks, primarily because nothing seems to change day to day and a kind of paralysis has set in. Then the events of the past few days brought about the realization nothing has really changed, certainly not for the Black people of America. While we all look forward to returning to "normal", Black America is probably closer to Stephen Dedalus in thinking “History is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.” As a country we are quick to decry the looting and violence meted out against property because property is sacred. (This is not new. The 14th Amendment which granted equal protection and due process under the law to former slaves was historically used by corporations to gain more property rights.) On the other hand, people seem to be expendable. Their rights can be trampled by those sworn to protect rights but all our attention is on the property damage. I shouldn’t have to state this but I know I am expected to, I don’t condone violence - but violence against property cannot be judged on the same scale as violence against people. 

It was pure coincidence that I just finished Ibram X Kendi’s masterpiece “Stamped from the Beginning: A definitive history of racist America”. He argues that the three most popular strategies against racism in this country have all failed:

  • self-sacrifice : a myth that claims that White people would have to sacrifice in order to ensure a more egalitarian anti-racist America. This has been disproved time and time again. You can pursue self-interest and also be anti-racist. For all the "others" in America, especially immigrants like me, Kendi says “it is in the intelligent self-interest of Asians, Native Americans and Latina/os to challenge anti-Black racism, knowing they will not be free of racism until Black people are free of racism.” I have not personally experienced hate in this country (UK - that’s a different story), but I am not naive to think that my group of people are somehow exempt because we are model citizens, highly skilled workers. Just see what other Asians are facing now as though every individual Chinese person was responsible for bringing the pandemic to this country! So yes, while we may not personally understand the struggle of black America it is in our self-interest to join this struggle. 
  • Uplift suasion - where Black people are asked to show exemplary, upstanding behavior to convince white people of their merits. This is a racist idea because individual Blacks (or Asians or Muslims or ….) are not race representatives. Every Black man cannot be Sidney Poitier or Denzel Washington. We are often quick to use “few bad apples” to explain away police brutality and systemic racism. Racism is individualized. But we don’t afford the same privilege to the other side of the coin. Welfare queens, Mexican rapists, Islamic terrorists … the epithets are endless.
  •  Educational persuasion - where we think we can educate the hate out of people. Instead we should focus on racist policies that lead to racist ideas leading to ignorance and hate as opposed to the other way around.
So do you blame when people who have tried every “approved” failed strategy resort to looting and violence to express their anger? Kneeling didn’t work. Just ask Kapernick. Black Lives Matter is still trying. What has changed? What have we all learned in the past few years? Just because we had elected a Black President can we close the book on racism? Paul Beatty in The Sellout states “That’s the problem with history, we like to think it’s a book—that we can turn the page and move the $%^*  on. But history isn’t the paper it’s printed on. It’s memory, and memory is time, emotions, and song. History is the things that stay with you.” The land of the free is also home to millions who are not free from prejudice and some of this runs deep through the entire existence of this country. History comes back to haunt us. To break this cycle Kendi proposes we should all be focussed on only electing principled anti-racists to any elected position - from our local school board to the President of this country. 

I will never know what it is to have been George Floyd, but his plight evokes a visceral feeling in me. To a small extent, the birdwatcher, Cooper in NYC - I could identify with him. As a fellow birder I am annoyed to see pets not on leash but I have hesitated so many times to call someone out because of the fear of being perceived as an outsider, someone who even after two decades of living here has been (and will forever be) asked, “where are you from originally?” and constantly have to prove I am 100% American. Black lives matter and not just for Black people. It matters to all of us - immigrants, minimum wage workers, Gay/Lesbian/Trans Gender, Women and even to the privileged majority. Covid-19 disproportionately affects African Americans, but so does this other pandemic which has been killing them long before the virus came around. When we find the cure for the former, let's not forget the latter.