Altruism and Angels

Above, from left to right: Rabbi Mark Wilson, Rabbi Joshua Lesser, Rev. Jerry Hill, Rev. Donna Stroud, and Jayce Tromsness (director of the upcoming ANGELS IN AMERICA at the Warehouse Theatre). As always, you can click the photos to enlarge.

It was really great to listen to ALL of their varied experiences!

~*~

A week ago today, on Martin Luther King day (January 20th), some of us from Occupy the Microphone radio show attended a Warehouse Theatre event, one of a series of community discussions/dialogues titled Altruism and Angels: A Community in Conversation. The one we attended was titled Religion: Blessing, Curse, Irrelevant? A Discussion of the Impact on the Spirit, Advocacy and Vision of the LGBT Community. (This special series of discussions is part of the larger "Year of Altruism" that will be a religious focus here in Greenville during 2014.)

It was one of those evenings that caught me off-guard... one of those things where I thought I knew everything already, but the discussion took me in surprising and unanticipated new directions. The discussion wasn't a modest one, with God-loves-everybody platitudes, but instead went right for the jugular. It wasn't just about the fundamentalists, everybody's favorite whipping-boy, but about the ongoing moral struggle now faced by the "mainstream" denominations, when they grapple with issues like gay marriage and adoption.

For that reason, I didn't know how to write about the event, since I had mixed feelings about it.

To wit: Is religion one of the main causes of pain and anguish in the lives of LGBT people? Listening to some of the stories, it sure sounded like that to me.

Is this fact due to some intrinsically-negative factor about religion/spirituality in and of itself, or a separate thing, religious dogma specifically?

Can we separate the spirituality/comfort of religion, from the dogma that provides its ultimate psychological wallop, as ultimate truth and metaphysical certainty?

Isn't the fact of unchanging dogma one of the things that comforts us when we need it? If not (and I've never found dogma by itself particularly comforting, but I realize others do), then what is it that we grasp for in times of spiritual need?

At left: Some of the discussion participants. It was a lively conversation.


These are the things we talked about. Very intense. I did not necessarily come to the conclusion that religion should be let off the hook, although I did come to the conclusion that it is probably not an unqualified good, which is something I have always believed on some level. Religion done properly, I would say, is a good thing. Done improperly, it's a bad thing.

I am now wondering if that truism (which I never fully realized I subscribed to in the first place!) is simply mythological. One of those just-so stories we tell ourselves so we can get along with all of our religious neighbors.

As I said, intense discussion. So intense, I could not fully deal with it until today, so thanks for hanging around while I try to figure things out.

~*~

I recently went on a bit of a screed over at Tumblr, ranting about the kids who won't do activism. (And like most kids, they shrug, roll their eyes, and go on about their bizness.) But seriously, I do realize this phenomenon is one big reason why people avoid activism... or start like gangbusters and then fade out over time:

People have cherished ideas they bring with them into their activism and then, BLAMMO, something happens (like this discussion) and we end up questioning what we think we know, what we tell ourselves we already believe. And stuff like this can sneak up on you and leave you too winded to deal with what is right in front of you. I probably should warn the kids about life-altering moments like this, if indeed they do ever decide to engage in some real activism.

Then again, nah. Let em all find out for themselves. ;)

Segregation begins at home

Historic photograph: March 21, 1965, the March from Selma to Montgomery.







The famous US Civil Rights march from Selma to Montgomery is being reenacted this week, and I was watching the Reverend Al Sharpton (organizer) on television, talking about it. At the same time, I was grieving the loss of my old friend Terri, and I was looking up some of our old haunts in Columbus, Ohio. Much has changed; so much, I often barely recognize the place. (Google Street View is an amazing invention.) I couldn't find Crystal Swim Club, where we spent the majority of our summers. When I last visited Columbus (2006), I had vainly tried to find it, circling and re-circling the neighborhood.

How do you hide two enormous pools like that? Was it smaller than I remembered? WHERE'D IT GO?

And then I found the blog of one Rick Minerd, ex-Chief of Police in Columbus. He wrote an entry on Crystal! (Pause for commercial: THIS is why blogs are so important, folks. We bring you the little-known history of real people and their daily lives.)

And yes, there it was. Had I forgotten?

As I watched the Reverend Sharpton, I was jolted back into reality. White reality.

It was a segregated pool. Like, by design, not by accident.

Well, of course it was. Had I forgotten?

Actually, yes. I had.

Perhaps I had believed that black people just didn't want to be with us. Why would they? White people, I had already noticed as a child, were often pretty nasty to black people, and if I was black, I wouldn't want to be around us either. In fact, the integration of our neighborhood and school was happening at that very same time, and we were all learning (in school anyway), to get along. But we lived on one side of the neighborhood and they lived on another. I didn't question this. I was a child, and it seemed the way of the world.

During the summers, we thought, they go their way and we go ours. It never really occurred to us that this was by design, on purpose.

Below, an excerpt from Minerd's entry on the Crystal Swim Club, which by the way, made me swoon with nostalgia. The description is so dead-on (DOGHOUSES!) that I started sobbing all over again, with memories of my old friend, Pleasant Valley Sunday, and daring each other to jump into the deep end.

Minerd accurately describes how we saved our brave little pennies, all year long:

In the early 1960s it was customary for kids like me to save money year-round for the opportunity to purchase a season membership to the Crystal, a pool in South Columbus located on the corner of Champion Avenue and Markison Avenue. I remember saving change in a jar and occasionally dumping it across my bed and counting it and the euphoria I felt knowing that when the tickets went on sale I would have enough to buy one. That was probably the first lesson my parents taught me in working and saving for what was important.

If I remember correctly the season "ticket" cost around ten dollars and a member could take along a pal who was a non-member who would be allowed in for fifty cents provided that pal was a white person.

It was that last sentence that jolted me back to reality. Was that really true? Of course it was. I never saw a single black person there, ever. But this did not seem strange to me.

As one of a minority of white people in the apartment complex I now live in, it suddenly seems so amazing that I didn't notice the whiteness, as I surely would now. But again, I was a child, and I did not question.

And even though the facility has long been gone I can still recall vividly the lay of the land within its fenced off boundaries. Upon arrival following a two mile walk from our home a member would enter on the Champion Avenue side of it and show their ticket to an employee who sat at a window just inside the main entrance. Then proceeding directly to a changing room where street clothing would be placed in metal baskets and handed to a guy at a counter who would give you a coin shaped object with a number on it to track your property for retrieval at the end of the day.

After changing into swimming trunks and exiting that room you saw what we called the big pool with depths ranging from around three feet at the shallow end to nine at the deep end where there were two diving boards. One just a few feet above the water and a second high dive for bolder swimmers.

Next to that was a smaller pool that we called the new pool and was one that was only five feet deep and usually used more by older members. Near the larger pool was a snack bar that sold potato chips, sodas and candy products and beside it was a small basketball court and a slab of concrete with one wall where some played handball. And scattered around the grassy areas were several multi-colored triangular wooden objects we called dog houses.

They were perfect for sun bathers to sit on a towel on the ground with their backs against it and they served as mini retreats, like camp-sites anytime the life guards would blow the whistles to signal rest periods, usually lasting ten minutes when all swimmers were required to get out of the larger pool. Adults were allowed to remain in the smaller pool during rest periods and I remember thinking during those times as I did often that I wished I were older.

I have mentioned the Girls and Boys Swims (in jest) on this blog before. I had forgotten the numbered coins, but I certainly remember the changing-rooms, and how we squealed with excitement as we smelled the chlorine. We changed in a hyperactive blur, shedding street clothes and racing out to the pools, where all of us extremely pale, blonde and redheaded children soaked up deadly levels of UV rays ... and whoever heard of sunscreen in those days?

Those of us who remember swimming at the Crystal also remember that it was a private club that operated before there were laws forbidding discrimination based on a person's race. It was a cooling spot for white people only.

However, following the civil rights movement of the mid 1960s it became illegal for businesses and private clubs to exclude people because of their race and instead of changing with the times and permitting non-whites entry into the Crystal Swim Club the owners elected to shut it down. The pools were filled with ashes and discarded debris trucked in from nearby Buckeye Steel Castings Company... like filling them with the cremated remains of a disappearing era.

For a number of years the location was operated by another organization as a private club but one without any sign of what it had been. The earth where those pools once were showed signs of discoloration from what was beneath it and the outlines of where they were was visible for several years but if one didn't know the history of the spot they probably wouldn't have known what it was.

Minerd mentions the irony that the neighborhood is now predominantly African-American, and the people who now live in the houses on that spot? Are black. (Do they know what was there before?)

Although it is easy to put down those of us from the past for our resounding racial cluelessness, I have to ask: where are all the public city swimming pools now, for working class kids (of whatever race) to go to? There are few-to-none here (mostly YMCA and YWCA), and from all I have been able to discern, public swimming pools are mostly a thing of the past. Middle-class kids go to pools in their friend's backyards. (I never knew anyone who had an outdoor pool when I was growing up; city yards are notoriously small and there wouldn't have been enough room, even if you had wanted one.) Segregation is not over, it has been taken private and local. If you don't have the money for an expensive membership to the Y, if you don't know someone with an outdoor pool or live in a suburban enclave or apartment complex that provides one for its members, you don't swim.

That leaves out a lot of kids. It certainly would have left ME out.

There may be white people reading this who have never been swimming with minorities, and will believe that they are not like me and my backward childhood. Since segregation isn't an actual written "rule" in a club charter someplace--well, then they believe it really isn't real segregation, even if the results are the same.

But it is.

And so, they paved over the pools rather than open them up to blacks.

And it has pretty much stayed that way, hasn't it?

Noam Chomsky update II

Back in the 70s, during the PR campaign for the Chicago Rock-Against-Racism event (which I helped organize), I attempted to interview Patti Smith... which basically turned out like this interview. Just as we got introduced, we got cut off. I always wondered if it was a right-wing roadie or somebody, who did that. Well, today, I can't blame right-wing roadies, I blame Gregg Jocoy, my well-meaning consigliere, who could not refrain from fiddling with buttons and various electronic gimcracks whilst I introduced myself to Dr Noam Chomsky. Suddenly, BEEP, cut off. Shades of Patti Smith! Major panic, sweating, hot flashes, etc.

When I called the good professor back, he was unperturbed by the interruption (obviously used to dealing with clueless hippies), but it was then that I lost the recording on Free Conference Call.com. Gregg kept on fiddling with knobs, but I could tell by his grim expression that we had messed it up and done A Bad Thing. (Ah, the ever-illusive spirit of radio.)

It is notable that the interview took place not in our usual digs, the WFIS radio-station studio, but in Gregg's mother-in-law's bedroom. So we ain't exactly high-tech. After the disappointing quality of Jeff Sharlet's interview, we really wanted to do better. Gregg bought some electronic do-thangs that were supposed to solve all our auditory problems and MAKE IT BETTER.

And in trying to do better, we did worse. (sob)

So, I will not be running an interview (much less a transcript), since we didn't GET the damn thing... BUT YES I ACTUALLY TALKED TO HIM! (PS: My side of the interview recorded fine! LOL) I am going to try and recall the substance of the interview as best I can. Below is a paraphrase of our conversation, which was about 12 minutes long.

~*~

I introduced myself as a South Carolina Occupier and asked what he thought of the Occupy movement in general.

He replied, it is a tremendous thing, and goes against so much of what Americans have been taught: not to care about each other. The networks of caring and connection that have been recently established have been as important as the movement itself. The concept of Occupy has caught on like wildfire; everywhere he goes, he said, he meets Occupiers, in small towns and even during a recent visit to Australia, there were Occupiers. It is a tremendous spirit that has taken hold. (last sentence is a direct quote)

I told Dr Chomsky that we were excited about the Al Jazeera article (focusing on SC Occupiers), which made us feel important down here in South Carolina, and he said we should be proud. I also said I felt that the history of secession and Civil War here in SC (first state to secede from the Union) has made people afraid and leery of politics, even now. At the least, many "moderates" seem unduly skeptical of ideology and political involvement. Dr Chomsky said that was very interesting. YES, NOAM CHOMSKY OPINED THAT I SAID SOMETHING INTERESTING! (Now fighting back the self-aggrandizing urge to add the blurb "Interesting!"--Noam Chomsky, to the margin of this blog.)

At this point, we discussed the fact that there is still a confederate battle flag flying at our state capitol. Dr Chomsky wishes that the Martin Luther King memorials would mention the Poor People's Campaign, which actually began here in South Carolina, something I hadn't known. Northern liberals liked Martin Luther King Jr as long as he was fighting ignorant Alabama sheriffs, Chomsky said, but when he brought his battle up north and confronted northern racism, they weren't so happy to see him. And he also believes King's legacy should pointedly mention that he strongly believed in helping all of the poor; Civil Rights was only the beginning of his work.

And finally, I asked him if he thought there were specific problems with the word OCCUPY, as some progressives have said.

The world-famous linguist chuckled, and offered the very common-sense observation that you can use any word any way you like, and Occupy is a good word to start with. It is precisely because it was used in a colonialist way, that it is a good word to use now. It shows that people understand what has been going on: Occupation. And now, WE are going to do some occupying.

The word belongs to everybody, he said.

I wound up by telling him at least one SC Occupier had been inspired by him, and cited him as the reason why he had decided to join the movement. Dr Chomsky replied that we were the inspiring ones. I was thrilled!

~*~

Of course, I wasn't thrilled when I realized we didn't have the interview recorded, but figured I had at least gotten further than I did with Patti Smith.

Gregg is upset, but not so upset that he doesn't have a million more ideas for the show, innovations galore, including podcasts. He doesn't miss a beat! If it wasn't for his amazing resolve, I wouldn't even be doing any of this stuff in the first place, so I can't fuss at him. Besides, I knew it was dicey--we are still amateurs. As Gregg says: we attempted to walk before we could crawl. But you have to learn some kinda way... unfortunately, trial-and-error still seems to be the learning method of choice.

I figure my paraphrased interview is better than nothing. And it was incredibly wonderful to talk to a living legend. Tomorrow's show will feature my paraphrasing of Dr Chomsky (which I have done to the best of my ability here) and I will be having some sport with Gregg and his love of electronic thingamabobs, and why he needs to keep his feverish pre-game button-pushing to a mimimum.

(sigh)

But in all honesty, it WAS a stone gas.

April 4th

Left: In 1968 MEMPHIS, Tenn "Before" by Ernest Lee.



Excerpt from Martin Luther King, Jr's Letter from a Birmingham Jail, April 1963:

I must make two honest confessions to you, my Christian and Jewish brothers. First, I must confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen's Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to "order" than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: "I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action"; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man's freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a "more convenient season." Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.


I had hoped that the white moderate would understand that law and order exist for the purpose of establishing justice and that when they fail in this purpose they become the dangerously structured dams that block the flow of social progress. I had hoped that the white moderate would understand that the present tension in the South is a necessary phase of the transition from an obnoxious negative peace, in which the Negro passively accepted his unjust plight, to a substantive and positive peace, in which all men will respect the dignity and worth of human personality. Actually, we who engage in nonviolent direct action are not the creators of tension. We merely bring to the surface the hidden tension that is already alive. We bring it out in the open, where it can be seen and dealt with. Like a boil that can never be cured so long as it is covered up but must be opened with an its ugliness to the natural medicines of air and light, injustice must be exposed, with all the tension its exposure creates, to the light of human conscience and the air of national opinion before it can be cured.

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Listening to: U2 - Pride (In the Name of Love)
via FoxyTunes