Race and ethnicity assignment #1...school is in session...
In my Race and Ethnicity Class we have directed Journal writing assignments...
The first Journal question/direction went something like this..."Dicuss your experience of being othered by others and of othering others"
The question is tricky and designed to make us think, she wanted us to go beyond surface issues of prejudice and discrimination and get into what made difference so important. This is my response to her question, see what you all thiink of it...
Directed Journal Entry #1- Othering and being Othered:
Being a heterosexual Caucasian American male, one might suppose that I was unfamiliar with the feeling of otherness as experienced by ethnic minorities, racial minorities and other disenfranchised groups; but, in actuality, I have never fit in anywhere. My experience of being othered goes back to elementary school at least. I was a small, shy boy who loved to read and did well in class without trying. Those qualities made me unpopular with bullies and so I was called names, tripped, hit and otherwise harassed in school from the earliest days. I had few friends and spent much time in the library where I could read and avoid persecution at the same time.
I come from a working class family of carpenters and firemen, which means that my early socialization included never backing down; so, when confronted by my tormentors, I would always fight back. In the early days this did me little good, it just meant that I got beat up more often. As I got bigger and older though, I also got better at defending myself and by the time I got into junior high school I was hard enough that they mostly left me alone. Looking in on life from the outside came to suit me and perhaps makes it easier for me to look at the world through the lenses of the sociological imagination. Observing is easier, safer and more interesting than joining in the reindeer games most of the time.
In adulthood I have continued to be the other in many places due to the chaotic nature of my youthful personality. I was stationed in Panama with the 2nd/187th Infantry (Airborne) in 1986 and, in the City, the locals outnumbered Americans thousands to one and did not like us at all. We felt superior to them by virtue of being American and so many of us treated them badly, othering them in their own country, and the rest of us had to live with the resentments that this conduct by some of our members engendered in the native population. They also resented America and Americans for the high handed way our government operates in central and South America.
I have been the only white face in a bar in South Omaha when I had my head shaved clean and had a few disconcerting moments until it was established that I was not some kind of Nazi or Klansman; later, the fact that I did not look down upon anyone there and that I treated everyone with respect made me a few friends and saved me a world of hurt when I found that I had backup and protection in a confrontation.
I have been half of what seemed to be the only heterosexual couple in Palm Springs one weekend when the Dinah Shore Golf classic happened at the same time as the White Party; together they brought about sixty thousand gay and lesbian partiers to town while I was there. That was interesting, not bad, not even uncomfortable really, but very different.
The worst place of othering I have ever experienced is Monterey County Jail in Salinas, the jail is heavily segregated by the inmates. I spent a bit more than a month there in 1999 and it was misery of the worst sort. I had been in jail before, but never one where the prison gangs were so powerful and the population so racially polarized. It was scary and disturbing, being White, I could not even sit at the same dinner table with a Black inmate, for fear of being disciplined by the “Woodpile”, things were a little looser between Whites and Hispanics, but still, there was little socialization and then only because the Hispanic population was more numerous and therefore powerful than the White population.
I have been guilty of othering others from time to time as well, though I am conscientious of the effects of such practice and try hard to treat everyone as individuals deserving of respect. When it comes to hate mongers and those who cannot stand diversity I don’t want them to think that they are welcome near me and will confront them or ignore them as the situation dictates, always making clear to them that I see them as the deviant other. I do not feel guilty about that though, they can stew in their own juices. The one instance of othering someone who did not deserve it that I can remember eats at me still.
When I was in my early teens, I decided that my little sister was not cool enough to hang with. I snubbed her and shut her out of my life, I blamed her for things that she had nothing to do with and I was needlessly cruel to her. I am ashamed of acting that way, and even worse, she has never really forgiven me. We are estranged to this day, and while I have changed my behavior, the way I live and act, I don’t know if we will ever be friends again. It is up to her at this point, and I hope that someday it will be water under the bridge.
The first Journal question/direction went something like this..."Dicuss your experience of being othered by others and of othering others"
The question is tricky and designed to make us think, she wanted us to go beyond surface issues of prejudice and discrimination and get into what made difference so important. This is my response to her question, see what you all thiink of it...
Directed Journal Entry #1- Othering and being Othered:
Being a heterosexual Caucasian American male, one might suppose that I was unfamiliar with the feeling of otherness as experienced by ethnic minorities, racial minorities and other disenfranchised groups; but, in actuality, I have never fit in anywhere. My experience of being othered goes back to elementary school at least. I was a small, shy boy who loved to read and did well in class without trying. Those qualities made me unpopular with bullies and so I was called names, tripped, hit and otherwise harassed in school from the earliest days. I had few friends and spent much time in the library where I could read and avoid persecution at the same time.
I come from a working class family of carpenters and firemen, which means that my early socialization included never backing down; so, when confronted by my tormentors, I would always fight back. In the early days this did me little good, it just meant that I got beat up more often. As I got bigger and older though, I also got better at defending myself and by the time I got into junior high school I was hard enough that they mostly left me alone. Looking in on life from the outside came to suit me and perhaps makes it easier for me to look at the world through the lenses of the sociological imagination. Observing is easier, safer and more interesting than joining in the reindeer games most of the time.
In adulthood I have continued to be the other in many places due to the chaotic nature of my youthful personality. I was stationed in Panama with the 2nd/187th Infantry (Airborne) in 1986 and, in the City, the locals outnumbered Americans thousands to one and did not like us at all. We felt superior to them by virtue of being American and so many of us treated them badly, othering them in their own country, and the rest of us had to live with the resentments that this conduct by some of our members engendered in the native population. They also resented America and Americans for the high handed way our government operates in central and South America.
I have been the only white face in a bar in South Omaha when I had my head shaved clean and had a few disconcerting moments until it was established that I was not some kind of Nazi or Klansman; later, the fact that I did not look down upon anyone there and that I treated everyone with respect made me a few friends and saved me a world of hurt when I found that I had backup and protection in a confrontation.
I have been half of what seemed to be the only heterosexual couple in Palm Springs one weekend when the Dinah Shore Golf classic happened at the same time as the White Party; together they brought about sixty thousand gay and lesbian partiers to town while I was there. That was interesting, not bad, not even uncomfortable really, but very different.
The worst place of othering I have ever experienced is Monterey County Jail in Salinas, the jail is heavily segregated by the inmates. I spent a bit more than a month there in 1999 and it was misery of the worst sort. I had been in jail before, but never one where the prison gangs were so powerful and the population so racially polarized. It was scary and disturbing, being White, I could not even sit at the same dinner table with a Black inmate, for fear of being disciplined by the “Woodpile”, things were a little looser between Whites and Hispanics, but still, there was little socialization and then only because the Hispanic population was more numerous and therefore powerful than the White population.
I have been guilty of othering others from time to time as well, though I am conscientious of the effects of such practice and try hard to treat everyone as individuals deserving of respect. When it comes to hate mongers and those who cannot stand diversity I don’t want them to think that they are welcome near me and will confront them or ignore them as the situation dictates, always making clear to them that I see them as the deviant other. I do not feel guilty about that though, they can stew in their own juices. The one instance of othering someone who did not deserve it that I can remember eats at me still.
When I was in my early teens, I decided that my little sister was not cool enough to hang with. I snubbed her and shut her out of my life, I blamed her for things that she had nothing to do with and I was needlessly cruel to her. I am ashamed of acting that way, and even worse, she has never really forgiven me. We are estranged to this day, and while I have changed my behavior, the way I live and act, I don’t know if we will ever be friends again. It is up to her at this point, and I hope that someday it will be water under the bridge.
posted by CSUS Sociology Club News at 9:52 PM
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