Who will be the last Survivor?
*This post is a retro one....sorry, folks, I have been traveling abroad the past few weeks so I am behind. Check back for more current rants...er, I mean comments soonjkmjhmn (those last few letters are courtesy of my cat Titan, who just walked across the keyboard).Last week marked the debut of the latest season of the smash CBS hit 'Survivor'. As many of us know, this year's cast features tribes based on race -- and has likely drawn the most coverage (and criticism) since the show's premiere several years ago. Now, I am a 'Survivor' fan from way back, ie. the inaugural season, with Richard Hatch running around naked. So I had no intentions of boycotting the show, as some of my friends and the larger black community have insisted. Instead, I want to see how the participants react to being aligned by race instead of the traditional, yet arbitrary, 'Survivor' categories. And, quite frankly, I want to know what the fuss is about. Everyone has decried CBS' move as, alternatively, a cheap publicity stunt and a disaster waiting to happen. Folks are worried that stereotypes will prevail (Asians are smart/blacks are lazy, anyone?), that relations between the tribes will get ugly, that viewers will cheer for their 'home' race, etc. That this latest twist in reality t/v will lead to able-bodied v. wheelchair, midget v. giant, gay v. straight and so on. GM even pulled their long-standing sponsorship of the show, chalking it up to the end of their deal vs. the show's content. Let's get real: in the brief history of reality television, we've seen people eat bugs, marry unseen millionaires and display their badass kids to America among other things. If these antics don't spell the end of television as we know it (and some would argue that they do), let's not act like the subject of race will. America is often referred to as a 'melting pot', with my current hometown of New York City usually held up as the epitome of that metaphor. Now I have a very diverse friend set, folks I love dearly. But I would say the core group of people with whom I speak, go to church, go to clubs, eat, etc. are primarily African American. And I suspect that racial makeup is similar for many of my white, Asian, Indian, Caribbean or Latino friends, both in and out of the city. So how is it wrong for CBS to inject that aspect of reality into this "reality" t/v show? Are people upset because CBS brought race out into the open? Or are they worried that the dirty little secrets of their particular race will be shown? Let's see what some of the contestants had to say about it... A sister on the show said this year's 'Survivor' is the time "for the black people to represent, to show that yes, we do swim, we can get in a boat and paddle. we don't just run track." This week, the black tribe rebounded from last week's loss to gain immunity going into the next challenge. One of the Asian team members noted that, within her group, the backgrounds are Vietnamese, Japanese and Korean - noting that there is much diversity within their larger 'Asian' classification. Another contestant, Cao Boi, noted that his younger tribemates are, as he called them, "Asian American --emphasis on the American. They have no knowledge of the old country." So are those of us who cringe at this year's 'Survivor' aware that these intraracial conflicts exist -- or are we showing our own ignorance and prejudice by painting the cast with a broad Asian (or black or Latino) brush? A member of the white tribe observed that "Just because people have cultural similarities does not mean that will automatically make them a cohesive group", at least not by 'Survivor' standards. Any member of any minority community - black, Latino, Asian, female, gay, etc - will attest to the truth of that statement. That contestant's words would prove prophetic as, this week, the Latino tribe ostracized and later voted off a castmember with whom they could not relate. It sounds like the cast of 'Survivor' might be a little more enlightened than the rest of us. Stay tuned...
The New Harlem
I just had a disagreement with a friend, over what I call the 2006 version of the Harlem Renaissance. Specifically, the rise of condos, of chain stores -- indeed the rise of gentrification in this historic neighborhood.
As a short-time (6 years) resident of Harlem, I have no true claim to the area. Unlike some of my neighbors, whose families have lived here for years, I cannot speak of the new faces and places in a 100% disparaging tone. Because I have to admit, I was ecstatic when Duane Reade FINALLY opened a store 2 blocks from my house. When Pathmark added to its stable of stores by opening a branch on 145th street. When Quiznos opened a franchise this summer just down the street. Shoot, even an internet cafe is 'coming soon'. Gentrification, I suppose, has its benefits.
But I also see the changes it has caused in Harlem, changes about which I do not hold my tongue. And so it was my latest observation that angered and hurt my friend, who is Asian. She was complaining about a downstairs neighbor - we live in the same building - and how loud he was. I was saying how tough it can be to deal with noise at all hours when people, as we do, hold jobs and have to get up the next morning. She responded by saying that if our landlord jacked up the rent, maybe our building would only attract professionals. I replied 'Oh, he can't do that, then the whole complexion of the building will change.'
She immediately took issue with my statement, saying (and I am paraphrasing here) 'Why are you always so concerned with complexion anyway? I know that you want black people to have a space here but Harlem wasn't always black. And neighborhoods change. I liked this neighborhood and was priced out of my old one so I moved here. And when you make these statements, that are so full of resentment, I don't feel welcome here. I feel like you look at me as just another one of those people.'
I looked her in the eye and said 'I wouldn't say that at all.', which is true. Because Harlem's gentrification was in full swing three years ago when my friend returned to NYC from a fellowship, with a new job but in need of a place to stay. Knowing that the apartment next to mine was available, I immediately called my landlord, who showed her the place that night. She got her apartment on the strength of our friendship -- and was pretty much unfamiliar with the area before she moved in, as she didn't visit me that often. So I reminded her that if I didn't want her to live here, I would never have let her know about the vacancy.
But let's get to the larger issue, with a little historical context. For those of you who are unaware, Harlem - spelled Haarlem initially - was founded by Dutch settlers in the 1600s and later became an enclave of wealthy white landowners. Remnants of that time, including the Alexander Hamilton house (he would be the chap on the $10 bill), still exist in the area. This fact is not a new one to me; in fact, I am the one who informed my friend/neighbor of it some time ago. I have no confusion on the genesis of Harlem.
Blacks began to move into Harlem in the early 1900s, due to construction, racial strife, real estate shortages and other facets of New York city life. As we moved in, whites moved out -- and it was that migration that laid the foundation for the Harlem we know (and many of us love) today, the cultural cradle of African American life.
Harlem is a place where African Americans have struggled, survived and thrived for many generations -- without the assistance or care from mainstream society. They were here, grinding it out, day after day, because it was home. For them, Harlem wasn't a placed they moved to because it was the last affordable housing market in Manhattan, Harlem wasn't a place to snap pictures of from a tour bus or a place to drop in to hear gospel music on Sundays and then forget about in the days ahead. Harlem was and is HOME, where they raised their children, attended church, agitated for social justice and more.
So, now that I think about it, I guess there is some truth in my friend's statement: maybe I am a little resentful...
I am resentful that it takes people who look like her or Bill Clinton or whoever moving to Harlem for people to view it as a viable, beautiful and worthy neighborhood.
I am resentful that it takes people who don't look like me or my superintendent or my landlord moving here for the banks/pharmacies/'insert store type here' of the world to recognize that there is a market and they can turn a profit here.
I am resentful that I have never seen more police activity in my Striver's Row neighborhood than I have in the past 18 months -- and the precinct is all of two blocks from my house.
I am resentful at statements like 'I liked the neighborhood and I was priced out of my old one, so I moved here', because it shows me that people are viewing Harlem as a piece of property rather than acknowledging its historical and cultural significance.
And I am resentful that the only housing available seems to be of the luxury variety, designed with the pockets of the upwardly mobile in mind, while those who have been here for generations are being pushed and priced further out.
All of these things, whether taken on their own or in the aggregate, make me wonder: do the lives of my people not count at all -- or do our lives increase proportionately in value, based on those who live around us? To anyone offended by my comments - and as I said to my friend - if my thoughts and words hurt, I am sorry; I do not intend for them to do so.
But I think this is an issue on which we will have to agree to disagree. To want the people of Harlem, who have been here in good times and bad, to reap the rewards of its resurgence is not something to be ashamed of. It is something toward which we all, new Harlemites and old, should strive.
Who U Callin' A Bitch?
Fly from the beauty salon (shout out to Will Smith's anthem 'Summertime'), I made my way home tonight on a rather fall-like summer night. The wind and sprinkles of an impending storm were battering my umbrella -- to the point where I was ready to toss the thing into the trash and sprint the remaining blocks from the subway to my house, fly 'do be damned! Little did I know the drama that same umbrella would cause in the next 10 minutes...
At the corner, a young man sporting a jersey and cornrows says "Excuse me, miss?" Ever displaying my Southern charm & hospitality (I am a Tennessee transplant living in NYC), I flashed a smile and said "Yes?" At which point, he asked, "Can I get under the umbrella with you?" Now, I don't blame the brother for wanting to stay out of the rain, but come on, man! Let's be a teeny bit more creative. And didn't he watch the weather before he left the house? 'Cause if he had, he would have known that Hurricane Ernesto is bearing down on the East Coast right about now. But I digress...
Of course, I said none of those things, opting instead to note how unstable my umbrella was, effectively ending any ideas of sharing the next few steps together. My answer didn't sit well with my wannabe friend, though, who griped 'It's a brand new umbrella and you're saying it is about to break. You could have just said no and saved all that.' The light turned green and we both crossed the street and stepped onto the sidewalk.
As I passed by him, I heard "And y'all wonder why niggas be disrespecting y'all and shit." Now, maybe at that point I should have just said nothing and kept walking but I felt a need to respond. And so I did, not nearly as intelligently as I would have liked, but I did with: "And that is why you are out here alone." Which inspired this retort, "And I can go buy an umbrella, fuck you, bitch!" Luckily, by that time, I'd arrived at my building so I quickly scooted inside, shaking off the rain and his comments.
But once inside, his words started to eat at me -- not in the whole 'Wow, maybe I should have given the brother a break and shared my umbrella. After all it was only another half block.' Nope, not at all. I thought 'WHO in the world does he think he is? How DARE he speak to me that way! I am an educated, professional sister; even if I weren't, that wouldn't make his little tirade okay. So what made him think it is acceptable for him to call me a bitch?!'
I know the person I am and know the people I choose to surround myself with. So to the young brother I met tonight, no, I don't wonder why black men disrespect me; in fact, it would never occur to me that they would.
Instead I wonder why an environment exists where we feel comfortable enough to tear one another down instead of promoting, as Queen Latifah used to sing, u-n-i-t-y. And I also wonder if the next woman you encountered had to endure the same epithets I did, all because she wouldn't share her umbrella, give you the time of day or something else of equal importance.
