Sunday, September 23, 2007

Fears and Dreams

There were a few things I was nervous about when I decided to go back to school. But before I talk about those things, and before I talk about why those fears have yet to be realized, I'm going to explore for a minute the reasons why I decided to come back to school despite my fears.


And by the way, homework was not a fear. It's true that I was good and burnt out by the time I graduated (and especially after that last mad-crazy 22-hour semester). And it's true that I was well and done with schoolin' at that point. But after five years of distance-makes-the-heart-grow-fonder, and after an introduction into the paperwork of governmental bureaucracy, I got past all of that. No, this is not about that at all.


When I interned at Cedar Grove with the adolescent sex offenders, I learned that people who had done truly, truly, truly, absolutely horrifically terrible things to other people... were still people. I'd known that in an academic sense. I'd already decided that prisons were for the most part useless because they punish instead of rehabilitate, and therefore don't really change anything. But after I had personally worked with goofy teenage boys who had done some of the hands-down worst things I've ever heard of in my life, I had to accept into my personal wisdom the absolute truth of their humanity.


I still have not brought myself to speak aloud some of the things these boys had done. I am still haunted by the idea of some of their offenses. I still remember playing basketball with them, and talking them through pimple crises, and listening to their theories about their favorite music. And when I got married, these boys expressed extraordinary concern that my new husband was going to hit me or cheat on me-- which both showed their worldview of the nature of marriage, and the protectiveness they developed for staff members who treated them like humans.


This is not to say that I feel all cuddly and warm toward sex offenders. It is merely to say that committing monstrous acts does not necessarily make someone a monster. It can. But it can also make someone a person who has committed monstrous acts. And there is a very important line there between the two.


When I went to Chicago to save the world, I was arrogant with this and other knowledge. I say "was arrogant" as though this has past, but I'm arrogant still. I'm arrogant and I'm pretentious. It's part of my charm. At any rate, I thought that this personal wisdom, along with my academic knowledge of societal problems, had prepared me for what I would find when I went to work in the "inner city." But of course, the more you learn, the more you realize there is so much you do not know, and the bigger each issue becomes.


I knew how monstrous acts did not necessarily equal monster. What I knew academically was that monstrous acts were sometimes a result of societal issues rather than individual issues. I knew that when people are desperate, they will do desperate things. When people are raised with violence, they will do violent things. Etc.


I knew that situations shaped people, created their worldviews, affected their choices and actions. I knew this. But I knew this academically. I did not own this in my personal wisdom. So spending four years in an impoverished community in America and learning, really learning, about how people lived and how they were treated and what happened in their lives and how it affected them and why it made sense to do things I would never do... it really changed my perspective.

I don't know how to sum this up in a blog entry. The more I think about it, the more I think my mom is right. I just need to write a book about what I've done and what I've learned. But the long and short of it is that people live in the life they were given, not in the life we think all people should have. Just like someone who has never seen written words will not know how to read, someone who has never experienced a peaceful day will not know peace. Someone who was raised in oppressive injustice will not behave justly. And someone who has been damned and beaten at every turn by our civilization will not seek to be "civilized." The American Dream is bullshit and it seems as though only people on the bottom rungs of our societal ladder know this. The people who have already "achieved" the American Dream are incapable of realizing they were mostly just born into it. They didn't achieve anything.


At any rate, I realized along the way that I was given HUGE benefits and privileges in my life. And being an educated, well-spoken, attractive, middle-class white American allows me to get away with certain things that not everyone can get away with. I can take this knowledge and run with it, or I can accept it for the responsibility that it is. I look at it as though it is my job to get some letters behind my name, because then I can speak and act with even more authority.


The big trick, of course, was to figure out a way to get some letters behind my name while still working toward my ideals. So I sat down and thought for a good while about the connections between poverty and racism and marginalization, and how this works in society at large, and how it affects individuals and communities, and what exactly I can study in this area, and what I want to learn, and then, possibly, what I can show from it. That's the short version of how I wound up in the Community Psychology program here in Hawaii.

Still, rejoining academia scared me. It is chock-full of middle-, upper-middle-, and upper-class people. It's wealthy and prestigious. It's far away from the reality I've lived in these past years. I was really nervous about rejoining the "society" part of society. I didn't really get along with "society" last time I was there.

Furthermore, I was worried about psychology in general. I was worried about the wall researchers must put between themselves and their subjects for the sake of objectivity. And I didn't know how I'd ever manage to have 'subjects' anyway, when it's so very clear to me that they're not subjects, but people. I was gearing myself up to come in and fight for the right to have some sort of relationship with the people I'd be working with, to fight against the necessity of "experimenting" on people in order to get answers. I really thought this was going to be difficult. I really thought I'd have a struggle the whole way through. I really thought that I might not succeed in the long run because of it. But I was gonna give it the 'ol college try.

These were my fears. And you know? It's nothing. There is no social pressure here, leastways not in my field. I'm sure everyone's still middle-, upper-middle-, and upper-class, but there is no "society" for me to get lost in. I can show up wearing nice clothes or scrubby clothes or anything in between and no one bats an eye. It doesn't matter that I don't style my hair, wear make-up, own heels. And if I get all sweaty in my walk to class, oh well. It's Hawaii. Everyone's sweaty here.

And in my field in particular, people are very open to the problems and challenges faced by those on the lower rungs. (At my Monday seminar, there's this one woman from the business department who does not feel that way. She sticks out as the sole voice of immovable judgment among a sea of social scientists. And I wonder if that radicalizes her further.) No one argues that they brought their problems on themselves. No thinks of these subjects as objects.

Furthermore, in Community Psychology, there is no objective distance. You join the community you're studying. You get to know them in and out and you report what you find. You use participant-observation, which means you participate while you observe. You don't try to overcome your biases with ever-more-elaborate double-blind experiments. You lay your biases right there on the table so that everyone can get a good look at them. And there's a huge social justice aspect of Community Psychology. There is social activism and social action. You get involved in trying to fix systems that create problems, not just fix individuals who suffer from the problems.

I am in a like-minded place here. And I'm just so very grateful that I wound up here. When I think about the other options-- the other schools I applied to-- I know I would not have fit in so well anywhere else. Again, if anyone doubted who is the luckiest person on earth, it's me.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Arr, she's drivin' me nuts

http://www.reuters.com/article/oddlyEnoughNews/idUSL1888712020070918

That's right, folks, tomorrow (or today, depending on where you are) is International Talk Like a Pirate Day!!!

Wednesday, September 19th.

Be there, or be square.

Monday, September 17, 2007

Fall back

I went to a lecture this morning by Michael Salzman, Ph.D., on globalization and religious fundamentalism. He discussed the connection between the two, not as a cause and effect, but as a consideration of where these topics connect to each other.

He began by talking about globalization's effect on culture, and people within a culture. By bringing in world-wide outside influences into previously secluded/segregated populations, a global homogenization occurs. From a global standpoint, we all become more like each other by repeated exposure to what was previously a different way of thinking/living/acting/being. But from an indigenous standpoint, globalization can be perceived as a threat to one's culture and heritage as these repeated exposures begin to change the traditional values within your system.

Similarly, when many different religions come together, there are two sides to the results. On the inter-religious side, you have tolerance and a new acceptance that perhaps 'truth' is relative (each religion has its own truth that is just as valid as the others). On the intra-religious side, you have a threat that tolerance and acceptance will invalidate the truth of your own personal religion.

Culture and religion are very similar to each other in that they give individuals and communities meaning, purpose, and truth, which in turn create self-esteem, self-efficacy, and a feeling of one's personal value in the world. Here's a quote from Becker (1975). "Culture itself is sacred, since it is the 'religion' that assures, in some way, the perpetuation of its members" either literally or symbolically. And this is very important. People need to have 1) meaning in their lives, and 2) an assurance of some sort of continuation. These psychological needs that are fed by culture and religion are very important to people, and will in fact trump physiological needs.

A positive and a negative example: People will fast, will go hungry despite the protests of their body, in order to fulfill a religious or spiritual obligation or desire. The psychological trumps the physical. Similarly, an anorexic person will starve themselves in order to obtain an unobtainable ideal of beauty. The psychological trumps the physical.

Culture and religion infuse a person's world with meaning. When culture and religion are shaken (due to globalization, for instance) the world becomes less meaningful, or perhaps loses its meaning altogether.

This can cause a backlash.

In 2006, Pyszczynski investigated the effect of 'mortality salience' -- a person being confronted with and becoming aware of their own mortality -- on martyrdom attacks among Iranian college students and on the willingness of American students to support extreme military action with heavy collateral damage. Both groups of students were more likely to support diplomatic action when their mortality salience was low, and were more likely to support these respective forms of attack when mortality salience was high.

Which means, yes, Dick Cheney on an aircraft carrier in the Middle East increases mortality salience among the people living there (of the 'holy crap this world leader is determined to kick our ass, we're all gonna die' type), which in turn will increase the likelihood of suicide bombings and the like.

This is true in lesser-extreme examples of confrontation against culture or religion. Mortality salience is the "Yes, you will die," threat. But what of a threat to culture due to globalization, or a threat to religion due to the introduction of other religions into a community? Well, when people's beliefs (cultural or religious) are threatened, they often exhibit a strong defensive reaction. If their beliefs are shown to be wrong (or relative truths rather than absolute rights), they can pull back into an 'us versus them' mentality.

This is, however, all in the case where some degree of 'us versus them' exists before the threat occurs.

If my religious beliefs or cultural beliefs already set me apart as having superior ways, superior knowledge, separate identity than 'those others', a threat from 'those others' is going to cause me to become even more convinced of my superiority and the need to eradicate what has become a threat to my beliefs and way of life.

But, if my religious beliefs or cultural beliefs are based on compassion, understanding, acceptance, tolerance, etc., a 'threat' from the outside will be greeted by increased compassion, understanding, tolerance...

Meaning, my reaction to changes around me is going to be based entirely by how I have been "primed" to react. If I have been primed with "us versus them", I will polarize these categories further. If I have been primed with "relative truth", I will push equally hard for diplomacy.

It's like what my dad is always saying. "You do not rise to the occasion, you fall back to your level of training." He didn't quite mean it like this, but it's true regardless. And it's very important as this world continues to become smaller and smaller. At some point, it really does become a choice. What is the training that you would rather fall back into? How are you going to react when things start to change?

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Getting leied

Yup, it finally happened. I got leied.

On Sunday, the Cultural Community Psychology department at UH threw a little beach party for us newbies. There are three of us, by the way. Melodi is from the Spokane tribe in Washington State and wants to work with women who have been in domestic violence situations. She also wants to work with her tribe as they make plans in the coming years for the future. Gina is from Brooklyn originally, through Berkeley. Her research here is going to be with homeless populations in Kilihi, which is kind of western Honolulu. And me. You know me.

Anyway, beach party. CCC. Melodi drove us out to Kailua Bay, which is gorgeous although I hear that the beach is significantly lacking... beach... since the last storm. There had apparently been broad swaths of sand to lay on before. Not so much now. On the way out, Melodi took us through the mountains, and on the way back we drove along the shore. My god, what a beautiful place this is. If you can ignore all the development. We call this progress. It's environmental catastrophe. I try to imagine the islands before Western civilization took over. This place is truly lovely. It's just all the damned buildings and military posts and "fake nature"--golf courses and manicured landscapes.

Melodi and Gina and I jumped into the water. It was the first time I was submerged. Gina too. We'd both walked in the ocean, but not really got in the ocean. I didn't have my swimsuit, so I just emptied my pockets into Michael's hands and just went on in.

It's salty. I knew that, at least in theory I knew that. But I've been swimming in Lake Michigan for four years (when I've gone swimming) and Lake Michigan is definitely not salty.

So we chatted and chilled and ate and talked with other grad students in my program and with professors in my program. And it was a nice, relaxing, absolutely beautiful day. And, of course, to welcome us three newbies, we got leied.

...

In other news, I have turned in my application for the Quentin Burdick practicum. I told a lot of you before I came that there was a chance I'd be able to take part in an internship that was outreach to rural areas on the other islands. And so I will. Well, I have to get accepted, but I hear that they love the CCC students and the interview I'm going to next month is really just a formality. Still, I'm nervous, and for the following reasons:

1) I do really, really, really want to do this. I went to the presentations of the groups that went last year and it's just... right up my alley. And it's so *community* based. We work within their framework, so it's not a bunch of outsiders coming in and deciding what's best for people they don't know. I'm so stoked about this.

2) It's a six-week long program. On another island. While Michael is still on Oahu. The longest we've been apart is 8 days. That was when I went to Ireland. I know this happens from time to time when married people move into professional lives, and especially the professions we're moving into. I mean, saving the world could require quite a bit of travel, actually. But six weeks is hard to swallow. He'll be able to come visit. It won't be so bad. Still, I'm nervous.

...

Anyway, things are going well here. Methodology is kicking my ass this week. Cultural Psych is still awesome. Starting to develop ideas for research (more on that to come, I'm sure). All told, life is very, very good.

Thursday, September 6, 2007

Uphill, in the sun...

My walk to school is a generally pleasant one. I walk down busy streets, but their are lights and crosswalks where needed, and though there is not sidewalk the entire walk, there is at least a wide berth of gravel so I don't feel like I'll get run over by cars.

Speaking of getting run over by cars, this has nearly happened to me about six times since I got to Hawai'i, and yes, at least two of those times have been during a walk to school. So it's not perfect, but it feels pretty perfect, and that's not so bad. One time that I almost got hit I was with Michael. An SUV was pulling out of it's driveway too quickly without checking the sidewalks, and ground to a halt about a foot and a half from me. Michael and I both paused. The SUV driver looked mortified. We continued walking.

Michael said, "You almost got hit by a car just now."

I said, "Yeah, it happens. I like it when I almost get hit by cars."

"Why?" I think this statement alarmed him slightly.

"Because it means I didn't get hit by a car."

Much more often, though, I don't come anywhere near getting hit by a car, and those times are generally even better still. I just walk to school.

It's about a 3/4 mile walk, uphill. I've been trying to figure out how it could be uphill both ways so that I'll have something interesting to tell my grandchildren, but, well... it's just that UH is at the base of the Ridge, and my apartment is at a lower altitude, and there is simply no way that I can go uphill and arrive back at my apartment.

Also, I will never walk three-quarters of a mile uphill in the snow here in Hawai'i. At least, there is a very low probability that will happen. Instead, I walk three-quarters of a mile uphill in the sun. And there is always so much sun.

In the afternoons, I cross the street even though it's slightly out of the way so that I can walk in the shade of the buildings. In the morning, I walk straight up in the shade from the other side. At intersections I slip into narrow swaths of shade while I wait for the light to turn. In my mind, I call these specks of shade "pretend shade" because they'll be, oh, perhaps a four-inch-wide strip of shade from a light post, or maybe a lumpy two-ish foot by one-ish foot block from a stoplight. But these pieces of pretend shade are very important, because otherwise you're just standing on a hot street corner burning in the sun. It's odd to think I'll still be slipping into pretend shade come December, January, February. I can't recall every having done this before, consciously and continuously. Here, I do this at every street corner. I will do it in every season. That is odd.

Sometimes, as I turn the corner off Date St. and onto University Ave., I can look up the hill and see that it's raining on my campus. Actually, this happens most days when I go to campus in the morning. I might slow my step slightly on these days, but the rain is always over by the time I get there. Thick black downpour for ten or fifteen minutes, then some mist, then, well, then I'm there and everything's sunny again. Sometimes I look at the rain enviously because usually rain feels nice here. There's only been one day that I got caught in the rain on the way up the hill, and I happened to have time that day. I stepped aside underneath a tree and waiting a few minutes.

The talk sometimes about the rainy season, but I'm not sure when that is. I hear that flu season has started now, and early. But I don't know when it usually starts, or why exactly it does. The weather hasn't changed. I guess the kids are back at school. Maybe that's why. I know that it's hurricane season for a bit more yet. So far that's been unexciting.

There's not really a point to any of this. Mostly I just wanted to talk about pretend shade.

Wednesday, September 5, 2007

White Flour!

Clowns disrupt a KKK rally in Knoxville.

http://asheville.indymedia.org/article/107Clowns

Hey Mom, remember that time we got peppersprayed at the anti-KKK rally in Memphis?

Ah, those were the days. Good times.

Tuesday, September 4, 2007

What I am reading today

This is from Community Psychology (Wandserman et al, 2007). The following exerpts are from chapter 7, Understanding Human Diversity. This chapter was written by Jim Dalton.



"My wife and I work in the same building at the same university. When I need to work late, I do so without reservations about my personal safey. For men, our campus is safe even late at night. I don't think about whether anyone else is on my floor or who has access to the building. When I walk to my car, I don't need to be alert. However, if she works late, my wife thinks about all of these things. In this society we tolerate a great deal of men's violence toward women, of which sexual assault is but one example. I tis clear that I (and other men) have a privilege that my wife (and other women) do not share.



"Consider a second form of privilege. When my wife and I wish to hold each other's hand or embrace in public, we do so without concern for our safety. As a teenager and college student, I was free to talk with my friends about whom I was dating or wished to date. No one told crude jokes about persons of my sexual orientation. I did not have to agonize about what my sexual orientation was or about whether to tell my parents about it.


"This privilege is not available to one of my closest friends, who is a lesbian. she has been harassed. If she is open about her sexuality, she may be excluded from some of the major institutions of societ: many religious congregations, marriage, adopting a child, careers involving working with children. If she hides her sexuality, she must deal with the personal cost to her integrity and well-being. Finally, the danger of murderous violence is always there for her, at some level of awareness.



"Consider a third form of privilege. Many of my Black friends and colleagues have noted that almost every day, in ways large or small, they are unpleasatly reminded of their race. Though these reminders may be indirect or unintentional, their effects are nonetheless real. Moreover, I have learned that the direct, intimidating incidents of racism are more common than I had realized, even today. In contrast, European Americans may go for years without being confronted with the meaning of our racial status. European Americans are freer (if we wish) to pursue our education, career aspirations, and leisure time almost solely in the company of people of our race. When a conflict occurs and one needs to assert oneself with a superior at work, the manager of a retail business, or the teacher of one's children at school, or when one must call the police, we can be much more confident that we will be dealing with a person of our race. European Americans also can much more easily arrange to protect our children from adults who may harm them on the basis of their race (McIntosh, 1998)."


...


"Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone, he told me, just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages that you've had."

(Fitzgerald, 1925/1995, The Great Gatsby, p.5)

...

This is Kati again. Seriously, I know it's a textbook, but damn am I enjoying reading this. I wish it were more socially acceptable/affordable for people to just sit down and read textbooks. I would recommend this one. There's a lot more I want to add, but I'm already worrying on copyright infringement, so I'll cut it here.

Other recommendations are:

A documentary entitled The Color of Fear, produced by Lee Mun Wah. Eight men of different colors/races/ethnicities and views on racism share a weekend together and talk about color, racism, and power. It is brilliantly insightful. These are just normal men figuring things out.

A book called Uprooting Racism, by Paul Kivel. It's the "White Person's Guide To Understanding Racism." It really puts things in perspective so that white people in a white society can understand the benefits we get that we're used to thinking of as rights. Draws parallels, as above, to gender/orientation/economic inequalities as well.