What's the Difference?

I've always shied away from writing about racial stereotypes.  I think I tend to over-simplify, by saying that to me - they're really no different from gender stereotypes.  Men and Women are different.  We see things differently, we feel things differently.  Isn't it OK to categorize our differences?  Isn't it OK to point out the fact that women are typically more inclined to express sensitivity, and men are more often afraid to cry?  Isn't it natural to poke fun at our respective insecurities, our weaknesses, our habits, when we know in our hearts that our cores are the same?  That we have the same internal organs, the same basic needs, the same primal appetites?  Stereotypes are just natural categorizations, based on generalizations about certain groups of people.  Participating in racial stereotyping doesn't make us racist.  Hastily labeling and compartmentalizing gender roles doesn't make us sexist.

I realize there's a sensitivity with racism, slavery and civil rights.  I get that oppression is real and true, and still exists today.  I empathize with the mistrust, with the skepticism, with the underlying bitterness.  I have to admit, I would feel that too.  Who wouldn't?  If your ancestry, your history, your life was shadowed by a past that relentlessly followed you and your culture, and refused to be buried or ignored, wouldn't you be bitter?  I know I would be.  The darkness in those shadows becomes a part of who you are.  You owe it some recognition.

And all of that said, Women aren't strangers to the Civil Rights movement.  The whole Male/Female correlation isn't completely out in left field.  There are plenty of men who still want women barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen.  There are still places where women are glossed over, ignored, and even abused.  There are still men out there who think women shouldn't have a right to speak about things like business, politics and sports.  There are men who say that American women are too aggressive, who covet the demure, submissive, East Asian prototype.  The woman who smiles, rubs his feet, has his dinner on the table every day, and never asks for anything in return.  Sure, there are.  But I'm not a feminist.  I'm a realist.  And those women have minds of their own.  They decide whose feet they rub, who's mouths they feed, whose kitchens they occupy.  At least, in America they do.  There are plenty of places where women still don't have a choice, and that's a whole different playing field.

When it becomes difficult for me, is when my African American friends are affected by this disconnect.  When those friends are the victims of ignorance.  Men often accuse each other of not being "Man" enough, but it's typically in jest.  Guys seem to subscribe to the religion of Machismo - always trying to call each other out, for not being tough enough, not being strong enough.  My African American friends are often accused of not being "Black" enough.  Seriously?  Man or Woman - not being "Black" enough is an extremely sensitive topic.  I've experienced first-hand, the gravity and weight that label can carry.  When I was in college, my beautiful, extraordinarily sweet and intelligent roommate was often caged by that generalization.  We had many late night talks about what it meant to be "Black."  We lived together for two years, and she was one of the closest friends I've ever had, and yet - the only real dinner I ever shared with her was on her wedding day - with at least a hundred other people.  And post-college, I've had heartfelt talks with more than one exceptionally intelligent, charismatic, male friend, who can't seem to get away from the judgement - men who waver between letting the criticism roll off of their shoulders, getting angry and fighting back, or just bowing their heads, and accepting the crosses they have to carry.

And yet, we simplistic folk can't talk about race, without fear.  Fear of being scorned, fear of being judged, fear of being wrong.  Only the Chris Rocks of the world can make fun of the Black/White debacle, with a sarcastic tongue, and not be labeled as racist.  And yes, I went there - but only briefly.

While I'm disgusted with the African American culture for scorning my friends, I'm not sure how to respond.  It's a sad, sad world when being "Black" means hiding your true selves, dumbing it down, stifling your creativity.  And not only that, but proving you're tough enough, showing you're street enough, for their standards.  Keeping it real.  As Rock would say, "Keeping it real?  Real DUMB."  And I commend my friends who refuse to fall prey to this trap, who joke, and pretend it doesn't hurt.  But don't we all just want to belong?  I wonder how I would feel, if I went home, and my friends made fun of me for being successful, for making decent money, for writing, for speaking correctly.  If I was told I didn't fit, because I wasn't White enough.  If proving myself to my race meant going against my moral and intellectual grain.  If being White meant selling a piece of my soul to the Devil.

But in all honesty, I didn't set out to talk about racism or sexism.  All of the above got me thinking about a different kind of compartmentalization - a different way of stereotyping, based on intellect and creativity.  It definitely exists.  From a young age, the smart kid in class is the "Brown-Noser," the "Nerd," the "Geek," the "Goody-Goody."  The smart kids often get bullied, or get criticized for being un-cool.  While not all smart kids are excluded from the "In" Crowd, it becomes apparent early that advertising your IQ can only get you Brownie Points with the adults and teachers.

So, why do we shun intelligence?  Why do we discourage an eagerness to learn and create?  Is intelligence really so restricted to that upper echelon, that elite few, that the common folk just can't relate?  I find it really hard to believe.  I can't write music, but I still enjoy a song.  I can't paint a picture, but I'm still in awe of its beauty.  If you aren't a Rocket Scientist, can't you at least appreciate the person who is, and what he contributes to the world?  What is it about intellect that scares us?  Why do we do our best not to stray far from the mediocre?

We criticize the dreamer.  Any man who's ever been a pioneer in this world has been doubted, beaten down, crucified, and sometimes feared.  Dreamers and idealists of the past have paved the way for modern day thinkers.  And yet, society continues to doubt the very people they lean on to lead them.  It's always been this way.  People who can't lead, follow, but it doesn't stop them from judging.  It doesn't stop them from hating.

In any case, discrimination against the intelligent and the creative is nothing new.  It's been going on for ages, and I suspect it's just a cross the Different have to bear.  What's really frightening is when this genius starts to separate not only the person from society, but the person from himself.  How many creative people have been clinically depressed, had substance abuse problems, attempted suicide?  How many have gone through life feeling ostracized and alone?  How has intelligence and creativity become such a curse?  And yet, doesn't it seem like depression is a catalyst for beautiful works of art?  How often does a happy song, or funny movie, become truly cathartic?  It's almost as if the pain gives birth to the beauty.  And the beauty creates the euphoria.  At least for me, an element of pain is inherent in a good work of art.

It seems like there's a theme in all of this.  There's a price to pay for being different, for being creative, for being smart.  Whether you're white, black, male or female, intelligence is a blessing and a curse.  It means being questioned, criticized, isolated, and sometimes hated.  It means being plagued by more profound feelings, being infected with malcontent.  It means sacrificing normalcy for greatness.  And I know that letting the jeers roll off of your shoulders is difficult.  Being criticized for who you are is unfair.  Being told you don't belong is hurtful, and painful and cold.  Gifted people aren't content to be nobodies.  As Adam Duritz (Counting Crows) sings,

"I don't want to feel so different, but I don't want to be insignificant.  And I don't know how to see the same things different, now."


We struggle with the need to be significant, and yet, not feel different from everyone else - least of all our own race or gender.  When our gifts separate us, when our peers insist on secluding us, when our own minds pull us in opposite directions - what choice do we have?  We're growing against the grain, but we have to to keep fighting to be significant, we have to accept that it's OK to feel different, we have to know how to see those same things, Different - NOW.  




- L.