It's no big deal really. Having been home a week and having had to go into various pharmacies to pick up incidentals, I've noticed my brand of mascara of choice, the one I've used for decades is nowhere to be seen. The take away from this is that my lash-wand been discontinued. Sad, I will look for a suitable replacement. On the emotional Richter scale that measures my pain, this is a mosquito bite.
Then comes the announcement from our son he is moving into an apartment after graduation. Growing up we made it clear to him repeatedly he "can't move home" once he finishes university--our way of gently forcing him into the real world so he thinks of how to move forward. It's not that we thought he wasn't listening. The realization he's really not coming home, that we are now permanent empty nesters, this is bittersweet. Our baby has truly grown up.
When a Japanese friend here in Boston showed me an article on her iPhone with a "read this and tell me what you think" I went into one of those rare silent modes. I didn't know what to say. I've pondered the article for awhile now and this is what I've come up with. Pain is pain.
Written by an African-American woman about how she was sick of the lack of news coverage on issues surrounding people of color, my friend asked me, "Is her point about the Boston Marathon bombing 'whatever'? Am I reading this right?" I had to agree. The author seemed to be saying, "I don't care." No. That's not quite right. I read into the author's words, "The white media doesn't cover stories about people of color so I can't find myself caring about something that happens to white people." I don't remember the author's name, and I only read the article once, but the connection to the the fact there was so much coverage of the bombing because of "white privilege", and running being a white person's sport (or something of the like) had my friend and I cocking our heads with a "really?"
The concept of quantifying pain has been on my mind of late. Comments made to me both in Japan and back in the US about how Boston Marathon bombing really wasn't "that big of a deal" fills me with a great deal of discomfort. I'm bombarded by questions I cannot answer. I argue and ask for caution as we compare disasters. True, there are portions of any crisis that are measurable: loss of life, property destroyed, cost of clean up, etc. Emotions, however, are not. No one can assign a number to pain. The degree of pain may wax and wane; we may have "better days" but it's impossible to actually measure what these "better days" mean.
I agree the media (white or not) covers whatever they want. More than that, coverage depends on the drama affect: is it sexy, does it sell ads, how bloody is it? I urge us to go one step further: we're looking at this whole "white privilege" subject from a very US-centric point of view. On April 16th in Japan (a country of color by all accounts) there was very little coverage about the Boston Marathon. Bit by bit there were news reports in the days following, but here is a classic example of a non-white country caring little about issues less relevant to the lives of their media constituents. Just because it's "American" does not warrant coverage. Just because it's "white" does not mean guaranteed air time. White privilege in Japan? Don't make me laugh. (All this for another blog posting.) I've had plenty a taxi driver not stop for me, and it's not because they didn't see me. There are plenty of examples of incidents I and others have experienced where being white means exactly the opposite of privileged. Here in the US and the west where there's been historical oppression by whites I see how and why the word "white privilege" emerged. This concept, however, does not translate to all countries of color. My problem with "white privilege" is that it assumes: white is good all over the world. Sorry. That's just not the case.
Measuring pain is a dangerous exercise to undertake. Those who do immediately open themselves up to an argument injected with heat. "I hurt more than you do," is a statement that essentially shuts down a discussion. Should the media cover stories--domestic and international, art and politics, white and of color--with equal word count? Of course. Will they? Of course not. Is this white privilege? You're asking a white person. Does my answer matter?
Let's go back to the marathon for a minute. Acknowledge what it was: an act of terror aimed at killing many. Don't trivialize this. Someone from Japan tweeted, "The US has set itself up as a terrorist magnet." This is an example of diminishing pain. Nothing about this is helpful, and in fact, the writer is allowing me to read into that line, "you've asked for it." You're welcome to your opinion, but it would behoove us to accept the fact when we say an act that results in collective pain is "no big deal" we allow others to do the same about whatever is important to us. You want empathy? Show some.
None of us have the emotional capacity, time, or energy to care about everyone everywhere all the time. We triage which issues matter to us. How we define what matters is of our own choosing: geography, race, sexuality, or the type of disaster all affect the degree to which what happened hits home.
Broad brush strokes dismissing pain creates more distance than not. While the disappearance of my favorite brand of mascara means nothing to you, there just might be one person out there who will say, "I know! I loved that brand! Why would they discontinue it?" and here, we would form an instant bond over a trivial item. Similarly, I will now connect with those whose children have "left home for good" as we wonder if it's okay to call them to catch up ("are we hovering?") and how we ask whether they're coming home for the holidays.
Pain is pain. Mine is not bigger than yours, and yours does not matter more than mine. It's all relative and it's all personal. Allow your measuring stick to be just that. Yours.
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