Hudlin Entertainment

Gatesgate – Part II

Why Can’t We Communicate?

The brouhaha about Dr. Gates continues into the third day and I find myself answering the question, “Why are we so far apart? Why do we disagree so much on the reactions of both man?” Before we can answer the questions as to why the divergent viewpoints, there is a more critical question….WHO are the disagreeing parties?

Several years ago I was standing in the hall way of the high school where I worked until my retirement. Since it was my so called “free period” (translation –I wasn’t scheduled to teach) I was monitoring the hall. The white (and I use this racial description merely to establish parameters) kid coming down the hall was probably a freshman, he obviously hadn’t hit his growth spurt yet . Since the young man wasn’t one of the habitual hall walkers, I stood quietly against the wall and waited for him to come closer. About that time, the principal, a tall black (again I am establishing parameters) man, bolted out of his office door and in the manner of large school principals confronted with too man children in the hall, immediately started yelling at the kid.

“Why are you in the hall? Where are you supposed to me? Where is your pass? Why aren’t you looking me in the eyes?” At that point I came off the wall, raised my voice a notch and in a tone of urgency, “Mr. Williams, I need to see you a moment…NOW.” Since I rarely raise my voice, the principal caught the fact that I needed an immediate action so his next comment to the kid in the hall was, “You wait right here, I need to see this teacher.”

Very quietly I spoke to the principal. “Stop yelling at that student, You have scared him to death. He is NOT disrespecting you or your authority…he is trying his best to be respectful ….and polite!” Now that I had his attention, I could continue. “You are asking him to look you in the eyes and if he does, that is extreme disrespect!”

“What do you mean? I don’t understand….?”

“This kid is Appalachian and well bred Appalachian children never look an adult in the eyes, especially one who is chastising them. If a kid makes that mistake, they expect to be backhanded and I do mean backhanded immediately!” I waited a second for my message to sink in…then continued, “I know……because my four foot eleven inch (Appalachian) grandmother would already have used her left hand on my face!” The principal looked at me and then asked, “Are you serious?” I nodded and said quietly, “As serious as a massive heart attack.” The principal looked at me questioningly and I nodded in the affirmative.

Mr. Williams wheeled around and turned back to the kid, “Come on my man and walk with me for a few minutes. I need to go in the cafeteria and get something to eat…..I didn’t eat breakfast this morning. Now, you sit right here and wait for me.” The tall man went back into the kitchen and came back with his coffee, a milk, an orange juice and two sausage and egg sandwiches. He kept one sandwich and the coffee and gave the rest to the kid. “Sit here with me a minute while we eat and then, I’ll walk you back to class. You are not in trouble. Whose class are you supposed to be in…don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” The instance had moved from a “he’s picking on me” scenario to a male bonding routine and the anger on both sides had been diffused. Because the principal trusted my judgment, I had been able to intervene in a situation which could have had very negative results. Because the adult male was listening and trying to bridge the gap between two cultures, he had gained the student’s respect and trust, a trust that would continue until the student left school…because that kid knew he could ask to see “Mr. Williams” if there was a problem and the man would listen (and not overreact).

What happened in Dr. Gates situation was a little more complicated. Any black man and many other men of minority cultures understood exactly what happened (without further explanation) and the extreme out of context disrespect shown by the Cambridge cop. Sadly it appears that the cop either does not know what he did wrong or does not care! Ironically when the chief of police says that his officer had actually taught a class on “racial profiling” at the police academy…..the majority of black men around me reacted with “Sure, he did. He probably taught them how to profile!” Sad but true.

My family lives in a small mid-western city. A few years ago we had a chemical accident in our town, an accident that required the town to be evacuated because of excessive smoke and fumes. My husband and I had been out in our neighborhood, about three or four blocks from home when the smoke began to cover the sky. We turned the car around and headed home. When we came to the four-way stop down the street, a police car pulled up behind us. In my rear view mirror, I watched the cop on his radio and said to my husband…”There’s a cop behind us and he is running our license plates. Don’t look back, let’s see what happens.” I knew the second the cop got a reply because he suddenly peeled out and made a sudden left hand turn into the next alley….which took him away from us. That officer had common sense enough to check facts before he did something with negative results.

If Crowley had backed out of the situation and apologized to Dr. Gates as soon as he verified his identity, the incident would not have escalated into the national news. Instead Crowley’s ego went into power trip overdrive. Why do I come to this conclusion?

1. Age difference – A 60 year old college professor who is in his own house expects to be treated with respect, not with Gestapo tactics and threats. Any cop coming to my door had best stand on my stoop and wait until he is (or isn’t) invited in and if he hasn’t had time to go through the amenities, his explanations should be prompt and logical.

2. If this cop is such an expert on racial profiling (and I doubt he is), he should have immediately understood how his posturing and presence would appear to Dr. Gates. The fact that he didn’t is cultural unawareness (remember the “he’s not looking me in the eyes..” response of the principal).

3. Testosterone overdrive- (or I’m gonna show this nigger who’s boss)!
At this point Crowley knew (or should have known) he had overstepped his bounds but he was hell bent on being “in charge.” The minute Dr. Gates asked for a name and badge number (which is his right), Crowley knew (or should have known) the situation had been reversed. Instead testosterone overdrive escalated (again, I’m gonna show this nigger who’s boss).

4. FOP support- Oh come on! Do you really think any union is going to admit publicly that one of its members screwed up? As a former union steward and board member, I know better. The private communication might be “How could you do something so stupid?” but publicly, the union is probably not going to criticize its member. However, this situation is very dicey, the union is walking a very thin line.

5. I also have to say, this. The “I tried to save Reggie Lewis” excuse sounds too much like the “some of my best friends are black (white, pink, purple and/or polka dotted)” cliché. Frankly, if these people of different ethnicities and cultures were your friends, you would know better than to deliberately take actions which would be offensive to them.

My final reaction has to be that racism and a lot of other “isms” are “as American as apple pie.” This country is supposed to be a melting pot of cultures, languages , and peoples. Too often we focus on the ways that we are alike and tend to forget that the ways we are different are just as important. Whether you choose to be a teacher, a preacher, a police officer, a social worker or whatever…..understanding the different cultures and languages that make up this country are endemic to the success of you job.

The English as a Second Language teacher who had Moslem students copying phrases from an English language Bible was just as (culturally) wrong as she could be and couldn’t figure out why the children’s parents were angry. After all, she didn’t do anything wrong! REALLY! Think about it!

Hillbilly Views

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Coronation – Part Two

DAY FOUR

We wake up a 5 something in the morning.  We’re bone tired from partying the night before but the anticipation of the day finally arriving keeps us moving.  We keep adding on clothing layers.  I’m dressed before the wife so I’m burning up.  I’ve got to get outside.

He head downstairs where we meet another couple in the lobby. They’ve got a car and driver and we head to the back of the Capital building, which the closest you can get in a car. Everyone else is straight walking.

It’s night…not twilight, but night.  But there are people up and walking. 

Most streets are shut down.  Lots of military vehicles. 

We get to the drop off point.  It’s by a McDonald’s.  There are vendors selling Obama gear, of course.  We get to steppin’. 

We pass soldiers who are packing M-1’s…or are those M-16s?  I ask my friend, who is from Liberty City.  He says he only knows by the sound…then wonders why he knows that.

There’s a trickle of people that becomes a stream.  It’s too early to talk, so it’s silent.  Everyone body type, clothing style, age group.  The United States of America. 

Dawn is breaking over the city.  DC is so beautiful.  The city of Benjamin Banneker.

We get to our meeting point where we are supposed to hook up with a Secret Service agent who will give us the express route into the seating area.  But he’s not there yet. 

We meet up with a few more celebs getting the hook up.  Gospel singer Bebe Winans, actresses Angela Bassett and Halle Berry.    Apparently there are more celebs like Sam Jackson and Sharon Stone stuck on a bus that didn’t have the proper credentials so they are stopped a checkpoint. 

Finally our guy arrives and he walks us into the Sam Rayburn Building.  Metal detectors, then down a series of long hallways, an elevator ride, more long halls.  Feels kinda GET SMARTish. 

We get to the exit, and our crew splits up.  Some of us are on the other side, so now me and the wife walk to our seats.  We see friends of ours from LA who are here with their adorable and well behaved sons.  We get our seats, which are damn good.  We are in position.  We’re not center, but to the right.  But there are jumbotrons, etc.

From the ground, none of us are truly close.  The Capital Building is so tall we’re all far away from the action.

It’s 8am.  This thing doesn’t get started until noon.

We immediately make friends with the people sitting around us.  A woman to our left is from San Francisco, a supporter of our friend Kamala Harris.  We spontaneously hug, just happy to be there.

There’s a 50 something white guy in front of me.  We high five, happy to be there.  He tells me he’s hyped because Obama’s gonna shut down Gitmo this week.  I’m happy to, but he’s got a special stake in this.  He’s an attorney who reps several prisoners there.

Whoa.

I ask him what should they do with the prisoners there.  He says they should let most of them free.  Of the 250 prisoners there, he says 200 of them are innocent guys caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Like the guy who was caught crossing the Afghan/Pakistan border wearing a Casio watch.  Casio watches are used to make bombs…or tell time. 

But when you offer 5000 dollar bounties in a place where most folks earn 200 bucks a year, a lot of folks get turned in for no good reason.

And the problem with the 50 truly bad guys is they were tortured, so their testimony won’t hold up in trial. 

Man, the outgoing administration truly sucked.

Meanwhile, it’s a bright sunny day but don’t be fooled, there no warmth with that.  If I don’t get moving it’s gonna get colder.  I get up and wander around.  I see Tom Hanks.  He’s not in my section.  He’s center, and I’m to the right.  But he’s not seated ahead of me.  That makes me feel good. 

I see guys from Wall Street.  I went to college with one of them.  They are tall and all have supermodel girlfriends.  They are dressed in stylish coats. One guy doesn’t have a hat on.  They are cool, but f*ck all that.  It’s cold and I have no vanity today. 

No one recognizes me because I have so much stuff on…sunglasses, face mask, parka hood, etc. I realize I look kinda scary. 

It looks like Jesse Jackson doesn’t have a seat. 

Word is Denzel abandoned his seat to stand closer. 

Finally, it starts.  Well, military bands start to play.  It’s torture.  They need to commission some new songs from Quincy Jones and…well, Isaac Hayes is dead, but folks who know how to write big and epic.  The Armed Services need something that sounds like SHAFT. 

Finally the ballers start to emerge.  Bush is booed.  Better than booed, the crowd (it starts in the back and waves forward) sings “na na na na, hey hey hey, goodbye”.  The press on TV were offended, but damn it felt great.  2 million people freely expressed their contempt for our soon to be ex-president.  America IS beautiful.

Mad love for the Obamas.  Can’t imagine what the view looks like for them.  That’s a lot of love. 

Roberts messes up the oath.  Stop hatin’.

We hug the strangers/neighbors again.  It’s over.  We have tickets for a luncheon and the parade, but to hell with all that. All we want to do is go to the hotel, take a hot bath, and watch it all on CNN. 

But we have no way home.  So we just start walking.  It’s a huge crowd, and people are going in every direction.  We are stuck behind a big fence.  My wife hitches up her fur coat and jumps the fence.  I am proud of her.  I do the same, then help a Latin brother climb down. It’s that kind of day.  You want to help strangers.

Trash is everywhere.  No cars, so the streets are full of people.  Again, they are quiet.  Peaceful. 

We have no idea how to get back to our hotel. Thank God I see a friend of mine.  She’s a music business mogul and a local.  She’s at our hotel too.  We hitch on to her. 

It’s a river of humanity.  Everyone is content, like we just had good sex.

After a while, we are going against the crowd, like a salmon going upstream. We realize we’ve walked so far we’re running into the crowd leaving the Washington Monument. 

I wish I had my video camera. You see stuff like this in disaster films, but never in real life.  We need more car-free days.

We finally make it back.  Baths, room service, CNN, and long deep naps. Night falls and I can’t believe the parades are still going.  Must be freezing out there. 

It’s hard to wake up and get dressed, but we manage.  We head to the Convention Center.  By now we know the deal.  You have to walk at least three blocks in the cold because of security. 

The charm and excitement of all this is gone.  It’s like that point in the ski trip when all you want to do is chill at the lodge and drink hot chocolate.

We run into friends on the way like the Underwood family.  By the time we finally get in there, it’s half over. But we clearly didn’t miss anything.  Unlike the other parties this week, this one looks generic and sad.  It’s in a huge room, and there’s a table with bowls of potato chips and pretzels. What the hell?

We leave fairly quickly and head over to this black business event.  It’s in a real stuffy club, and it’s filled with black folks who own banks and work in high level jobs in Fortune 500 firms.  First I am turned off by the crowd, but I relax and as I talk to them, realize on one level I am a lot like them.  But cooler and more creative and fonkay. 

On the way home I make a quick stop at a DVS in Georgetown.  There is a life sized Obama standee.  It seems like the perfect end to the night.  The revolution was televised, but I was there live.

NEXT:  THE AFTERMATH

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