Posted 3 years, 1 month ago around lunchtime by oso
It is a wonderful thing to have a friend as a boss and a boss as a friend. I use the term “boss” loosely, but “friend” is meant with appreciative precision. Checking up on my unread RSS items this morning, the first and second items I read were improbably related. Both by co-managing editors of Global Voices and both (somewhat, sort of, not really) related to cats and dogs.
I had always been a dog lover myself (first “Spike”, then “Toto”), even though my own personality is undeniably feline (a false assertion of independence, etc.). Just like Georgia’s friend stuck in middle America, I was convinced that I was a dog’s man – or man-dog according to some – and my singular interaction with a black cat named Midnight that peed on every corner of every rug had me convinced that all cats, like totally suck.
This discrimination served me well for 26 years until Bill, or William, or Billard, or even Guillermo, depending on my mood. The deal was that to love Mari I would have to accept Bill. Worse, I would have to convince him to accept me. I won’t lie, it wasn’t always an easy process. Kung-fu claw kicks were delivered to my aorta, pouty paws would push my head off the pillow, and vomit stains dotted my favorite chair. Bill, too, had to endure some regrettably childish behavior (he doesn’t, for example, understand why I get a kick out of making his ears twitch).
But now we’ve been through a lot and it turns out that Bill is my favorite pal here at the office. See how he keeps me company:
Georgia’s right, it’s much easier for me to say that Bill is uniquely uncatty than it is to admit that my stereotypes of cats were a bit short on evidence. Why is it that stereotypes are so easy to form and so difficult to change? HP is fond of saying, “it’s not discrimination, it’s statistics” and that’s fine if the statistics really back it up, but more often than not, they don’t.
It never ceases to amaze me how often I hear, “but he doesn’t act Black”, “but she’s not, like, really Mexican”, “but you weren’t born in India?”, or, in my case, “but you don’t seem American.” I hear that all the time when I’m abroad. Of course, like any good, college-aged liberal I would take it as a compliment. But then it made me curious and even a little bothered; not because I feel patriotically American, but because I don’t not feel American either. In fact, the more I think about it and the more time I spend abroad, the more irreversibly Yankee I feel.
Here in the States it is amazing how ethnic identity teeters on the border between gangsta rap and indie rock. Not too long ago I was talking with a Filipina friend who was shocked when she came to the Bay Area and found out that to be Filipina here is to listen to hip-hop, R&B, and to dress “urban”. Likewise, last week Steven, who is Iraqi-Canadian, a fan of the Decemberists, and a really bad shot, wondered if he would be wearing size 40 pants and listening to The Game had he grown up in San Jose like his cousins. And a few months ago, Alejandro and I bonded over a memory shared by all who went to junior high in Southern California: whether to listen to KROQ or Power 106. For a 13-year-old, that decision seemed to set the path to your social destiny.
One of the most eloquent speakers against the culture of “you don’t act black” is HP’s hero, Thomas Sowell. HP gave me Black Rednecks and White Liberals (without having read it himself mind you), which argues that Southern and urban black culture today comes not from Africa, but rather a rowdy part of Scotland. You don’t need to read the book to understand the argument; just go to a high school with both American Blacks and recent African immigrants.
Just as there is no single definition of “black” or “latino” or “white” or any other check box on the SAT, there is no single definition of how every “member” of each group acts. How we pronounce vowels, the clothes we buy, the music we listen to, the friends we have: these are all things we choose, sometimes consciously and sometimes not. I recently read a wonderful piece about those very choices by David Matthews. No, not that David Matthews.
It is even more wonderful to be able to hire your own boss, as you did quite directly in my case, and less directly in the case of Rachel. Thanks again.
And Bill is gorgeous — you’ll be a better person for knowing him, I’m sure.
I completely identify with your transformation into a cat lover by will of another. I don’t know about you, but I realized a lot of my hatred for cats was due simply to unfamiliarity (no cats growing up vs. my wife’s having had upwards of ten throughout her life).
Nardo (short for Bernardo) has caused me to perform a complete 180 on the subject of cats:
I should say the phrase “once you go cat, you never go back” doesn’t apply to me — and I’d wager it wouldn’t for true dog lovers (to allay some fears). I still want a puppy later on. But he’ll have to get along with Buttface (pictured above).
Georgia,
Bill’s a pretty good looking creature, but of course, he already knows this and is anything but camera shy (some soft porn shots will be on flickr soon).
Derek,
I should be more specific. First of all, you’re right, my problem was indeed unfamiliarity. My only two experiences with cats were the above-stated Midnight when I was a kid and then a roommate’s cat when I was 18 who had a fixation with sticking his anus in my face.
It wasn’t exactly that I disliked cats. It’s more like Karl Pilkington’s argument against the pineapple – is it really worth it? Cats were OK, but not worth the smelly rugs. There are still times when I come home and discover vomit on the blanket and I face my feline friend as ask, “why?” But I’ve come to understand, Bill is worth it.
I was shocked to discover that Georgia is, at root, more a cat than dog person (but we have to whisper in case Delphine hears).
However I have to admit a soft spot for “Cat” (still to be named) even though he is, technically, another’s. I foresee a custody battle ahead. And of course I’d only be fighting on behalf of the dog, who loves him and would be sad without him.
Bill. That’s quite a good name.
Don’t be so hard on stereotypes amigo, they convey much more information than you let on. I was first turned on to stereotypes not by economists, as you might have assumed, but by Steven Pinker, my favorite psychologist. In his debate with Elizabeth Spelke over whether or not men have an innate advantage over women in mathematics and the sciences (short answer: at the higher end of the bell curve we certainly do) he wrote this:
Pinker isn’t the only one either, Stereotype Accuracy : Toward Appreciating Group Differences, is especially insightful. Another useful resources is Do We Stereotype Stereotyping?
I am not saying that all ’stereotypes’ (when talking to libies, especially libies from the Sociology, Anthropology, or chicano studies background, I tend to use the word ‘generalities’, or even ’statistical discrimination’, as they have been indoctrinated since birth that all ’stereotypes’ are bad, so it always elicits a negative reaction and stiffles productive conversation) are accurate, but they certainly are more accurate than many people give them credit for. The key to remember is that they are statistical inferences, so they need not be 100% accurate to be valid, only likely.
For example, when I was growing up in Compton, white people were in such short supply (i have never met one white person that lived in Compton) that when we saw one driving around, we always assumed they were there to buy drugs. Granted, it wasn’t always true, but in the vast majority of cases it was. Or, a more recent example, I wash my car after I get out of work in a very uppity city. The city and especially the area is full of engineering buildings, banks, expensive hotels, and large corporations, and has little to no Mexicans – except of course the Mexicans that wash cars, cut grass, and work in the restaurants. Occasionally when I go wash my car I am mistaken for one of the workers there – who, aside from the owner, are all Mexican. They complain to me about the quality of the car wash, or the price, or if I can ring them up. I tell them that I don’t work there and sometimes they feel embarrassed, sometimes they don’t. But if I am there with another Mexican, my Mexican friend almost always feels offended by the mistake, claiming it was racist to assume I worked there. I am like, ‘look around, isn’t it easy to make the same mistake if you didn’t know me’? They eventually see my point, but only after I bring in the statistics of the situation (on a side note, I never understood the claim that being confused for a gardener, mechanic, janitor, or car wash employee is somehow disrespectful in itself, I have family that still do that work today, and consider it a very respectful profession).
This is understandable as far as it goes, but change the circumstances a little bit and people go ballistic. For example, take a common example given in ethnic studies classes, the example of the black student (or any ‘underrepresented minority’) in an ivy league college who gets confused as a benefactor of affirmative action or a sports scholarship, instead of stellar academic achievements. Is this ‘racism’? Many would say so, but statistics show that in more cases than not (except where the person is a black african immigrant), that would have been the case.
This is the fundamental premise of statistical discrimination – in a world of costly information people sensibly rely on a lot of statistical generalizations.
Of course chicano studies professors and their ilk will have none of it, and claim that statistical discrimination or not, it should stop. But this is far easier said than done. Sure, for those college professors teaching classes behind the security of college walls, it is easy. But when you take on the costs of ignoring statistical discrimination directly it is far less likely you will do so. This is why, for example, in every ghetto you will find a larger than normal amount of negative stereotypes – making the wrong statistical conclusion really could lead to life or death. Assuming that a group of bald mexican-american teenagers in LA poses the same threat as a group of bald black teenagers could lead to serious problems, especially if you are a bald mexican-american yourself. It may be easy to pontificate on the immorality of the ‘evil’ taxi cab driver (many of them black african immigrants) who refuses to pick up young, black males in NY, but I bet you that taxi cab driver is a lot safer because of it.
Don’t get the wrong idea though, I am not defending statistical discrimination in the sense that it is good. My point here is not that statistical discrimination is good – my point here is that it is human. I personally have been on the other side of statistical discrimination, and I can tell you that it is painful. But the best way to stop it is not to get others to work against their nature, it is to get those in your own group (ie mexican-americans that join gangs, commit crimes, drop out of high school, take bs chicano studies classes…okay, that last one was a joke, but you get the idea), to stop doing things that lead to the likelihood of those making the statistical inference correct.
In short, foreigners shock that you were not like ‘the typical yankee’ says little about the validity of their statistical experience, but more that you, as everybody who reads your blog would certainly testify, are really not like the ‘typical yankee’.
On the “but you don’t seem American”:
We’re simply the new American voice. We understand certain fundamentals:
Polyglots are our friends. Assimilation isn’t a dirty word. Nationalism is counter-productive. Partying until 6:00am is ok. Universal health care is crucial. Equality is a good thing. Money isn’t everything. Smaller cars are cooler. Gay rights mean everyone is happy. “Liberty and Justice for all” extends beyond this nation. etc.
Anyway, I don’t mind it when people tell me I don’t “act American” when I’m abroad. I know exactly WHO they’re talking about and I’d rather be in a league of my own. Honestly, I’d rather start a new American identity anyway. Hope all is well, homie. Over and out vato.
-a
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Judging by that photo, it looks as if my cat is pretty similar to Bill. Whenever I’m at home doing work he’ll try his damndest to lie on the key board, atrract my attention, take up residence on my lap, etc.
http://www.nytimes.com/indexes/2007/01/28/fashion/index.html?8dpc
black rednecks … white rednecks. they’re all here in red state land. moderate gay white males are much more of a minority. personally, i think there are much more of them …. they’re just afraid of coming out of the closet. after all, those rednecks (whatever their skin color) might beat the hell out of you.
btw… the feline looks a wee bit portly. my mom’s was and became diabetic. now she has to give it two insuline shots a day. but josie the cat is all svelt now!
I’m not that bad of a shot…
Way to go and ruin all my street cred.
Great post. Shooting down stereotypes and some cat loving. Right up my alley. I LOVE cats and always have. Welcome to the wonderful of cat love were your coat is covered in fur and your in the grocery store at 2 am buying Fancy Feast. Ok maybe thats just me.
First time to your blog. But I am feeling it. Sounds like you like hip hop. My boys are having a show at the Mighty on Saturday with Tribe Called Quest Ali Shaheed Muhammad. You can go to digunderground.com if you are interested.