Week 3 - Luzon - Harold's Sacrifice

[alycewilson]

If not for the kidnapping of Harold the rubber hand puppet, I might have gone a few more years before learning about casual racism.

Harold's abduction took place in the final legs of a legendarily abysmal family vacation. After contending with a car breakdown that scuttled our plans to stay in our camper, leading to us tent camping out of my mom's Ford Escort instead, we had also dealt with a gas leak in Old Orchard Beach, Maine, our final destination. Then, on our return home, we stopped in Boston, where my dad ignored the guidebooks and parked on the street instead of in a secure parking garage.

When he returned to our car to feed the meter, he discovered that someone had smashed the back window and stolen a few items, including an Apple laptop case that my brother used to store his favorite items, such as a well-worn deck of cards, a variety of cassette tapes, and Harold.

This meant that we got to see an unexpected tourist location, as my dad put it: the inside of a police station. The police officer was no-nonsense and, when he leveled with us that we probably wouldn't get our items back, he seemed surprised by my little brother's tears.

"But what about Harold???" my brother wailed.

My dad asked if they had any leads. The police officer told us that a young Hispanic man had been spotted in that area that morning, tossing items pilfered from cars into an accomplice's pick-up truck. There was reason to believe it was the same ring that had been operating in that area of late, stealing items from cars. This would also explain why, when we parked, there was already broken window glass on the sidewalk.

With resignation, we slouched back to our car to complete our journey, trying to make ourselves feel better about it all by telling each other jokes about the awful trip.

~~~

A few months later, I wrote a humorous column about the vacation for the high school newspaper, lampooning it so hard it could have starred Chevy Chase. Describing the Boston theft, I referred to a "Puerto Rican with fast running shoes" making off with the loot. The completed column was one of the first humor pieces I'd had published, and I was proud.

That was, until my Language Arts student teacher, Miss Diaz, pulled me aside a few days later. She had the article in front of her and asked me to sit down. Then, she pointed to the paragraph about the robbery. Gently, she explained that what I'd written could be considered a negative stereotype of people of Latin descent.

Flummoxed, I told her that I'd based it on an actual description from the Boston Police. Well, except for the fast running shoes.

Miss Diaz nodded quietly, then told me that wouldn't be clear to readers because of the over-the-top tone of the piece. Instead, she said, it would more likely confirm negative views that people might already have about people from Puerto Rico. People with Hispanic names. People, I suddenly realized, like Miss Diaz herself.

In an instant, I went from being proud of my piece to being deeply ashamed of it. And I was equally confident that Miss Diaz, whose bright smile and enthusiasm made our L.A. classes seem special, would never see me the same way.

What must it have been like for Miss Diaz, teaching in my nearly homogenously white school? I'd heard rumors about exchange students finding threats written on their lockers, but Elenio, the Brazilian exchange student who stayed with family friends, never had it happen to him. Then again, he was a football player who instantly fit in with the popular crowd. He looked so much like Elvis that it had become his nickname. But what about Carolina from Venezuela, the quiet girl with severe straight bangs and acne? What was my school like for her?

As a chubby geek with glasses, I'd been picked on for my own essential traits. Still, I could only imagine a fraction of what they must have faced. There was so much I didn't know. Did Carolina cry in Miss Diaz's classroom during lunch?

And what about the kids who'd lived their whole lives here, but didn't fit the prevailing ethnicity? What about Dee and Gladys, African-American girls in my class? I was on good terms with them, but had I ever said anything accidentally prejudiced? How had I lived 16 years of life without thinking about that?

All I could do, in that moment, was apologize to Miss Diaz and assure her I wouldn't make another mistake like that. And while I wish I could say that was true, that I never again unconsciously used a stereotype or accidentally offended, I can say I've kept listening and learning. That's all you can ever really promise to do.

Thank you, Miss Diaz. And thank you, too, Harold, wherever you are.

Comments

[adoptedwriter]

Love the reference to Chevy Chase and the line: "...we got to see an unexpected tourist location, as my dad put it: the inside of a police station."

I grew up in and now work in a very "white/ Karen-centric" school system. Our district is making great strides to educate workers and residents about the unintentional racism/ culturalism remarks that happen all the time. I believe that most people don't want to hurt one another, but knowing just a little more can make a significant difference in our awareness.

[alycewilson]

Oh, that's so true! It honestly never occurred to me until she said it that I could be insulting and hurting people with something I thought was funny. I'm glad your school is working on educating people about those issues.

[bsgsix]

This is such an IMPORTANT story. As a kid, it's easy to do things and not realize the impact. But then we grow, and learn, and become better.

What an important thing to share, especially right now during this dramatic time of division. This is very well-told, and highlights not only why we should recognize privilege (and lack thereof), but also self-awareness. Thank you for sharing this. <3

[alycewilson]

It definitely made an impression on me! It truly is important. I'm trying to pass along those lessons to my son, who's lucky enough to learn them a little earlier than I did.

[murielle]

Beautifully written! And a very timely piece.

You are such a great writer, and I love how you use words and phrases.

Excellent work, A! Brava! Brava!

[alycewilson]

Thank you so much! That's great to hear.

[bleodswean]

It's an amazing experience when we are gently taught the hard lessons. I love this essay, A.

[alycewilson]

I like that phrase, gently taught the hard lessons. And yes.

[megatronix]

Oh wow... This is really good. I love the opening line, the Dad line about the police station being a tourist attraction, your poor sweet brother's tears. It's hard to lose those little stuffed animals we hold so dear. But especially the dawning of the realization of how racism slips by our notice sometimes, until we learn, and then, yes, we keep listening and learning. It's so important for us all to remain humble and open to learning, as hard as it is to ever feel that shame of being called out. But it's great Ms. Diaz could do so gently and in a way that resonated and stayed with you. Plus, the shame of that occurs because we do care so much and don't want to hurt anyone.

I had a funny moment reading this, when I got to the line about, what must it be like for Ms. Diaz in our school?, I had a knee jerk, wait why? Before I understood one second later that it must be a mostly white school. I went to school in San Antonio, and I think the population of my school was like 55% Hispanic/Latinx, 40% white, 3% Asian, and 2% Black students and staff. So, it was just funny for a quick second that through that lens, my sleepy brain went, but why? before I quickly understood and laughed at myself.

Anyway, this is wonderfully written, and I really enjoyed it.

[alycewilson]

Thanks so much for these thoughtful comments!

At the time this event happened, my school was probably 90 to 95 percent white, with the majority of the minority population being African-American, with one Vietnamese family who had come in as refugees during the Vietnam War. (My mom, incidentally, helped a different Vietnamese woman who arrived at that time to learn English. I remember her prepping her lessons.)

Nowadays, I understand it's a bit more diverse, and my Dad, who still lives in that area, tells me there are a lot more families of Latin descent there. But it really is true that, except for Miss Diaz and the exchange students, there were literally none at that time.

I wish I had shown that piece to Miss Diaz before it ran, but of course, you don't know what you don't know. I am truly grateful to her for enlightening me in such a firm but gentle way, and I wish I had more information about her so that I could let her know the impact she had.

[gunwithoutmusic]

This was a good reminder of why it's important to have beta readers that are not only your peers but also from different walks of life. Something that can seem totally innocuous to one person can seem malicious in the eyes of another. There's definitely value in writing something that is designed to offend sensibilities, but only if that's your actual goal. Good work :)

[alycewilson]

OMG, when you said that it's important to have beta readers, I thought, "What did I miss?"

Of course, one of the reasons I didn't have a beta reader was because I was the Feature page editor on which this column ran. Our journalism advisor did give our pieces a read, as well, but it was the 1980s, and I believe that it just slipped by her, not being an issue in her consciousness, as well. Or it's possible that she didn't review that piece, since it was a creative piece and she typically reviewed the news stories for factual errors.

At any rate, yes, you're right that it's so important to have other eyes on your work to catch those unintended mistakes.

[gunwithoutmusic]

Hahaha and this is why it's so important that I get beta readers for my comments, because I can totally see you reading that and thinking I was saying, "Everyone look at this flaming pile of garbage, this is why you need to have someone look over your piece first, don't be like alycewilson!"

But I would never!

[alycewilson]

LOL! No, I know you'd be kinder than that, even if that were the case!

[uselesstinrelic]

(hahaha, y'all are crackin me up)

[flipflop_diva]

This is a really great piece. Parts funny and parts sweet and other parts really thoughtful and enlightening. It reads like a piece you could read to young kids if you're trying to explain the concept of casual racism to them.

When I was young, my city where I grew up was very white, but by the time I got to high school, it was more than 60 percent Asian. But at the same time, they were also a lot of Asian stereotypes spouted by people (even some of Asian descent themselves). It took a lot more years for me to realize how all of that was so wrong, even when nothing malicious was purposely meant.

[alycewilson]

Wow, that's interesting! I wonder if they were aware of the stereotypes themselves or if they were sort of reclaiming them in an ironic way? Then again, I always hated stereotypes about girls and women, but I know some of the girls in my school didn't bother to push back against them and even adopted them as a way to criticize each other.

[halfshellvenus]

an unexpected tourist location
I loved that description. I can see where some of your dry sense of humor comes from. ;)

I'm so glad Mrs. Diaz spoke to you, though it must have been hard for her. But she managed to do it with kindness, and to start from the assumption that at heart, YOU were kind. She applied a loving touch to a hard situation, setting an example as well as trying to make sure you heard her. Lovely.

On a humorous note, I have to say that a rubber hand-puppet actually sounds like something a little horrifying to me rather than something loveable. My mental image of it borders on clown territory. :O

[alycewilson]

The younger me would have been chagrined to be compared to my dad, but now I'll own it. He and I do have a very similar sense of humor! In fact, I've caught myself saying things to my son that my dad has said to me.

I'm also glad that Ms. Diaz spoke to me. In my mind, she must have felt a lot like I felt when I heard Cub Scouts from another pack at camp one summer calling each other "gay." I knew this was something that I needed to turn into a teachable moment.

Harold was a bit horrifying, to be honest. I found a similar one on eBay of which I'm going to try to share an image below. My brother bought him in a gift store on a school trip to see a cave, and he adored him because he'd bought him with his own money, and the face was very malleable, meaning that my brother could make different expressions with it. Little boys, right? I'd imagine he was about the age my son is now.

[halfshellvenus]

Oh, LORD. That's worse than I anticipated!

Ugh. I can imagine the rest of the family was probably just as happy to have Harold disappear. :O

[uselesstinrelic]

Don't worry, whoever stole it is clearly cursed now! By that face! hahah, poor guy!

[uselesstinrelic]

I laughed out loud at your first line (It kind of reminded me of that joke "if it weren't for my horse, I never would have spent that year in college", or however it goes!) But this was overall a really good story! I don't know if I have any one specific "this was the moment I understood" kind of story where racism is concerned, but through a series of life experiences I've also learned about my own ignorance. It's really important to challenge these kinds of things on an ongoing way and challenge your notions or assumptions. Bless Miss Diaz... I can only imagine that teachers encounter so much crap. But they can also impact students, like being there for Carolina, or even having to sit down and do something really difficult like teach you. But you did the best you could by being moved by that and learning from it, and even though it would be great if people didn't have to have conversations anymore like "ps, that's actually kinda racist, can we try again?" I think what matters is what you do after you learn. My sister was a professor of sociology for a while doing student teaching while working on her PhD and would have to teach or address with students things like race, gender, class, and so on. She would say that it wasn't so much the problem when students didn't know it, but that when they are taught about it or shown, when they are resistant or blow it off or don't learn from it that it's really when it gets shitty.

All we can really do is apologize from the heart, and go forward learned and determined to do better.

Nice piece!