I have always thought that one of the most telling and subtlety vicious aspect of segregation was the fact that a white person regardless of age or economic status could always call a black person, regardless of age or economic status, “boy” or “girl.” It is probably two years in Korea, but there is something uniquely and horribly offensive to me in the image of an insolent young white kid calling some grey-haired black patriarch “boy.”
The movie The Ghosts of Mississippi, which is otherwise not a cinematic masterpiece, tells the story of the decades-late trial of the murderer of Medgar Evers, a black civil rights lawyer killed by the Klan in the 1963. In the movie, the young Mississippi DA who tries the case is played by Alec Baldwin, and for me the gracious formality with which he treats Evers’s widow is uniquely powerful. I am not an especially emotional guy, but for some reason watching Alec Baldwin call Whoopi Goldberg “ma’am” is an enactment of respect for equality and human dignity that literally brings tears to my eyes. The swelling music of the finale with justice achieved and Goldberg weeping with happiness does nothing for me. Simple graciousness and courtliness sans soundtrack, however, make me blubber.
I am, alas, not a particularly mannered or gracious person. I worked for a judge, however, who in good Southern noblesse oblige fashion took such things seriously, albeit in his quirky, Southern-character kind of way. It is something that I admire even if I don’t have the patience, humility, or discipline to emulate him. I try, however, to make an extra effort for race and class. Jim has pointed out on a number of occasions that we probably all harbor half-hidden prejudices. I am not sure how far down the road of white-guilt and self-flagellation I am interested in going, but I think there is some truth to this insight. My response is that I make a consistent effort to always call any black person who I do not know “sir” or “ma’am.” The same is true of the mainly immigrant workers who are the janitors and physical support staff where I work. I don’t know if this is a racist, petty or snobbish gesture or unduly self-conscious or simply maudlin, but it is what I try to do. For me it is manners — particularly of the Southern variety modeled by my judge — that becomes my marker of human equality and dignity.
For me it is manners – particularly of the Southern variety modeled by my judge – that becomes my marker of human equality and dignity.
Indeed. And of whether or not we are human and God’s children or have chosen another way.
It’s taken me most of my adult life to figure out Nate’s point, though I should have known it from my upbringing.
I come from a Southern family, though I wasn’t raised in the South myself. Red necks though we were, we knew what gentility was about, when to say “sir” and “ma’am,” when to remove our hats, etc. (I still have to hold myself back from lecturing students who show up in class and don’t take off their baseball caps; I resist the temptation to lower the grade of those who walk out before I’m finished lecturing without so much as a “by your leave,” but it remains a temptation.) That combined with the fact that my father was an Army officer made an awareness of manners and signs of respect second nature as a child. Though racial prejudice ran deep in my family (perhaps my fear of its remnants in me makes me suspect that it lurks unsuspected in many places), it was nevertheless a cardinal sin to be found guilty of having been rude to anyone, regardless of color.
I remember vividly learning that lesson when I was about five, in the early fifties: we were at the Dairy Queen, sitting in the car having just gotten an ice cream cone. A couple of Blacks came up to the “colored” window to get something and I said to my mother (imitating my uncles, I’m sure), “Mommy, look at the n––s.” She turned to me and slapped me across the face very hard. “Don’t let me ever hear you say that again!” I don’t think anyone outside our car had heard me. That wasn’t the point. Rather, my mother did not approve of my language. It was disrespectful. And the lesson was learned; I don’t think I ever called someone that again. (Perhaps the slap will shock some of you. I assure you that it was quite common in the late 40s and 50s and certainly would never have counted as child abuse. I’m glad my children don’t use corporal punishment, but I don’t resent my parents having done so.)
However, as I got older and moved away both from Southern and military culture, I forgot about the importance of manners. Like most Americans I began to emphasize my “individuality” and to believe that informality was a sign of personal liberation.
In a private conversation about this topic, both Nate and Russell mentioned the effect that a Korean mission had on them, reinforcing the importance of manners. I think that plays a significant role in my own understanding and practice of them. On my mission I learned not to wear glasses or to cross my legs during prayer. To this day, I can’t do either without feeling guilty. Nevertheless, from the time of graduate school until many years afterward, I valued informality over formality. But perhaps my mission experience has a lot do to with why, on arriving in Paris for a sabbatical a few years back and seeing the formality of French culture, I felt obliged to become more formal, and I began to recognize the place that formality plays in our lives. If so, then the period between my mission and 200 was a long interlude. I’ve returned to my origins.
I’ve come to understand that manners are important to community. (I can’t tell you how odd it is the I am saying this. Those who knew me 25 years ago would swear I’ve had a brain transplant.) I’ve returned to believing that social formality is important to us. The Lithuanian-French philosopher, Emmanuel Levinas said that the most important recognition of another person is to be found in phrases like, “After you.” I think there is a great deal of insight in that.
This topic touches what is the current focus in my spiritual journey. Christ’s at-one-ment is the foundational event in God’s plan for our happiness. While Jesus was giving us the Atonement, he also asked for some things: that through his atonement both that he and the Father would be one and that we would be one. It only took me half a century to realize that I am able to something that would help Jesus receive what he requested.
“Believing Christ” and “Confronting the Myth of Self-Esteem, — which I believe are mirror images of the same book: one looks from the atonement at us and the other looks from us at the atonement — helped me to understand the uselessness of trying to be good enough to earn God’s love, exaltation, and the rest of the eternal blessings. Those are gifts, hence not earned, that we receive as we become prepared to receive them. Our responsibility isn’t to pay back, but to give to others. As I learn to just love and to accept love, life is becoming much easier and joyful.
I find happiness in just looking for ways to help people from love, without worrying about whether I received any payback. That takes a lot of anxiety out of serving others. This prepared me for the most recent step.
Giving is only half of love. It also sets unequal giver-receiver roles in a relationship. Jesus asked (John 17:21-23) that we become one. This is where I can/should/must do what I can to help Jesus realize his request. I’m now working on learning to determine what must I do to become at-one with each person I encounter. I believe that this at-one-ment with them will realize Jesus’s request in my part of the world and give me even greater joy in communion with others because it will create fuller, more-equal relationships than giver-receiver.
Like Nate, I tend also to “try to make an extra effort for race and class.” As I become more natural in seeking at-oneness with everyone, I hope to move beyond making effort to natural joining.
Anyway, that’s what I’m attempting. I’ll let you know how it goes. Pls share any warnings/heads-ups/comments.
I grew up in Alaska, but my parents taught me to be respectful – though when I do call someone “sir” or “ma’am” people tend to laugh and find it quaint (though older people tend to smile and thank me).
On my mission, this principle was even further engrained, because Laotion has several levels of pronouns that show respect (there are 5 or 6 ways to say “You” and “I” that differ depend on whether you are talking to a friend, an intimate acquaitance, a monk, a parent, a political leader or a diety). Beyond that, the most common pronoun for “you” is to actually call the person “father/mother” or “older/younger sibling” or “grandfather/grandmother” or “uncle/aunt” based on their relative age to you (the aunt/uncle one is a great way to get around being disrespectful if you can’t guess their age right off).
Interestingly, the Americanized children of Lao immigrants would often complain about this, wishing they didn’t have to show such deference to everyone in the Lao speaking community. They would often complain about this to us elders, thinking we (being young and American) would agree with them. We tried to be nice about it, but we told them we thought it was one of the better facets of the language.
“On my mission, this principle was even further engrained, because Laotion has several levels of pronouns that show respect (there are 5 or 6 ways to say “You” and “I” that differ depend on whether you are talking to a friend, an intimate acquaitance, a monk, a parent, a political leader or a diety).”
A lot of Asian languages are like that, Ivan. Korean was. There were several levels of speech that one could make use of, depending upon the situation. I almost always spoke in the most formal way, just because I found that easier (unlike many other missionaries, whose ease with the language I envied, I never could manage to talk casually to children or others for whom “relaxed” forms were appropriate).
Except, as I mentioned to Nate and Jim before, it wasn’t just that it was easier: it fit my personality also, somehow. I don’t consider myself a particularly courteous person; “sirs” and “ma’ams” don’t come spontaneously to me. What I am is a person quite comfortable with the idea of deference–to age, expertise, position, etc. Stepping back and putting myself in a position of dependency or acknowledgment in regards to other people seems to me perfectly natural, given the fact that we truly are wholly and absolutely dependent upon others (and God). In most parts of Western society generally (with some important exceptions), the reigning idea is that being “our own person” means we don’t have to measure up to, or submit to, anyone else. That idea was mostly absent in Korea, where the legacy of Confucianism was quite strong. And so, we American missionaries all got a crash course on learning to speak (or not speak) in a submissive, respectable way. I’m sure there were a lot of missionaries who hated it, but I thought it made perfect sense. And like you, Ivan, when I’ve talked to Korean-Americans for whom the Confucian legacy has been diluted or rejected, I tend to feel that they’re missing out on something important.
Like Jim, I was raised in a military family where formality was simply a way of life. To this day I can’t stand to be less than 15 minutes early for a meeting and I have trouble addressing anyone more than five years older than me by their first name. I think such formality can be taken too far (or applied cynically ala Eddie Haskell), but it seems to be almost entirely lacking among the undergraduates I teach.
Interesting that formality in non-English languages has arisen. In Guatemala I was taught that I should always use the more formal “usted” and avoid speaking in “tu”. In some of the Guatemalan areas where I served there was also an ultra informal version of Spanish called “vos” that we were also told to avoid — this form always would use odd inflections of verbs that were fun to listen to — “levanTA-Te voz” is how I remember one such inflection. In one especially urban part of Guatemala city the adolescents would also play games with the language by changing like-sounding words for one another. It was an odd kind of slang. For example, instead of saying that someone’s jeans were “flojo” they would say “tus pantalones son muy flores.” That’s only one example and I’m not really doing the form justice with it. It was a very playful, youthful and perhaps insolent way to speak to one another and I never heard enough of it to really even try to use it.
Since the mission when I speak in Spanish — I bounce around between the “usted” and the “tu” forms with people. I try to use “tu” because I want to be informal casual friendly — but then I feel concerned that it is inappropriate (especially with the opposite sex) so I wonder if I should use “usted” instead, which I’m more comfortable with using anyway. Latin speakers usually tell me I should use whichever is most comfortable — but they are probably just being nice. Any strong opinions from Spanish speakers?
I notice here in my New York City ward that the native New York members (perhaps they are more recent converts as well) introduce themselves as “Brother ______” (using the last name) and I find myself hoping to hear a first name as well. At the same time I’m impressed that they want to be respectful and more formal. I’m not sure if this is something unique to the African-American members of the ward or not. I’ve mainly noticed this with them.
The “vos” that you were hearing in Guatemala is what is used in Argentina and Uruguay, instead of the “tu” form. I don’t know where it might have come from (either in Argentina or Uruguay), but there is a possibility that Guatemalan kids could have picked it up from watching Argentine movies.
When did “guys” become the common second-person plural form of address? An elder presented a sign-up sheet for something or other to our high priest group today and referred to the collective high priests as “you guys.” The little whippersnapper.
gst, (#9) When did ¡°guys¡± become the common second-person plural form of address?
Everybody know the appropriate second-person form of adress is *y’all* ;)
Seriously, the thing that impressed me most when we moved to the South was being called sir by the kid who made change at the gas station.
The thing that weirded me out most when we moved to the South (Charleston) was how anyone younger than the speaker could be referred to as “baby,” no matter the age. Like when I drove a stranded older woman from the shopping center to her home: “Thanks, baby,” she said. I’ve seen elderly Relief Society sisters addressed as “baby” by even more elderly sisters.
We have such a long way to go in the USA. The scars of racism run deep.
I was walking down our street the other day, on the sidewalk. Two young black men were coming towards me. I’ve seen them on our street in the past. As they approached it became clear that they were going to occupy the entire sidewalk as the passed me, forcing me to either make an even bigger issue of it or step aside. I thought this was odd since there was plenty of room for three people if they weren’t actively trying to occupy as much space as possible. So I stepped onto the grass as they passed and one of them turned just as he thought he was out of my peripheral vision and lunged at me and waved his arms and made faces. It took me a few steps to process this act and then I heard them chuckling about it, so I turned and asked as politely as I could why that was an appropriate interaction. The response? “Do you want me to come **** you up you white honky *****?”
I laughed, turned and walked away, but the experience was shocking. It made me angry at first and sad later. I didn’t intend for the interaction to be about race, but I guess it already was before anything had happened.
The vos form used in Paraguay, Uruguay, and Argentina is also common in Guatemala and other parts of central America. Don’t know why it’s used in those places and not in between, but there it is…
To continue with the digression (threadjack?) . . . in Egyptian Arabic, verb conjugations distinguish for number (in Classical Arabic there is even a dual form) but not for formality. This disinction is accomplished through an elaborate system of terms of address, some based on profession. These include brother, uncle, aunt, professor, doctor, engineer, chief engineer, lady, ‘your presence,’ ‘your excellency,’ etc. (Ironically, some of the older Ottoman titles–pasha and bey–have been co-opted by the younger generation as informal terms of address, analogous to ‘dude’ in English.) Also, even in what we would consider formal situations, surnames are rarely used: Ustaaz Mahmoud, Doturah Zeinab. I never learned the family name of many of my teachers. I suppose it would be might be culturally strange for many Americans, but I wouldn’t mind using ‘brother/sister + first name’ in church.
Perhaps more on topic, I spent a lot of time working with Sudanese refugees while I was in Cairo and saw the discrimination they faced. I never witnessed outright violence but regularly saw the deliberate coldness and general lack of respect that they faced. It may not exactly correlate with the American concept of racism, but what these Sudanese faced was very challenging. To live at the bottom of the totem pole in an already poor country is a difficult lot indeed.
[P.S. I left a similar comment on Sunday night. Is there some reason it was erased? I also recall a comment from Aaron B . . . just wondering.]
On a plane ride back from Boston a few months ago, I encountered a new LDS missionary (on his way to the MTC), and asked him if there were any issues he felt uncomfortable dealing with as a missionary. His answer was, “Well, there is that whole black thing”. What he said next was even more astounding.
I made a short video about the experience, the links to which can be found on http://www.mormonstories.org/ . I’ve sent it to both Darius Gray and Margaret Young, and Darius wrote me back yesterday with very favorable comments. It is only an intro piece, and is made to be part of a larger video (so it leaves you hanging a bit), but check it out if you so desire. I’d love your feedback.
Ultimately, I think you will be very, very surprised to find out the missionary’s thoughts on blacks today (and he was raised neither in Utah, nor the South, but in Boston by an executive at Fidelity Investments). Apparently past GA statements were key to his current prejudices…even at 19 years old.
When I told the same story to a currently serving bishop in West Virginia, his response to me was, “To be honest with you John, I would have a hard time even today standing in a temple prayer circle with a black man.” He was just being honest, and I respected him for it (as an xth-generation southerner).
We indeed still have a very, very long way to go. I feel strongly that the church could go a long way towards changing more hearts and minds by reputiating all former GA racists statements in an LDS Conference talk. I know it’s unlikely, but we can dream!!!!
Response to John #12:
Consider yourself lucky. Here in Atlanta people have been killed for less than that.
John,
It is not surprising that some people have issues with racism. Nor is it surprising that some of them are Church members. And if we made a video every time a 19 year old missionary got peripheral doctrine wrong we would have a pretty massive collection. But I would not paint with too broad a brush were I you. Stories culled for their outrageousness are not likely to provide a representative sample of what Mormons, or Americans, or people generally believe or feel.
Mike–What do you mean? Killed for what? Who killed who?
Frank–I accept your view/position. I just happen to believe that niether we as members, nor the church leadership, seem to be doing what they could/should to stamp out racism. You can make it sound super infrequent–but my experience tells me that’s it’s far more common than many of us realize.
In addition–the church and church leaders teach us to repent. The steps they teach us are: 1) feel remorse, 2) stop the sin, 3) ask forgiveness, 4) make restitution where possible, and 5) do not repeat. I believe that churches and church leaders should follow the same suggestions. I believe that the church and church leaders should apologize for past statements, and renounce them. I do believe they’re working hard to make restitution…..which is a positive thing.
Yes, my comment has been erased! Obviously, my views are not wanted here, and I refuse to comment here ever again.
Aaron B
John Dehlin,
What’s up? I assume you’re the “John Dehlin” from Lyon, White and England’s “Colloquium” class, circa 1990-91? This is Aaron Brown. I was friends with Nate Kuemmerle, Danny Laycock, Christine Goodwin, etc. I believe we all went to Hermosillo, Mexico. Does my name ring a bell? Your views were always fun and appreciated at BYU, John, and I imagine they will be here as well. You should stick around.
Aaron B
Aaron!
Shoot me an email. Let’s catch up!!!!
John
Can I assume your email address is [email protected]?
Aaron B
Frank,
Eugene England did surveys of his students at BYU on this issue and found that these misconceptions are pervasive. This missionary is the rule, not the exception.
My husband is a rather recent convert (1 year+) and non-native English-speaking foreigner. He is also black. Many Americans in our branch don’t quite know what to do with him, which is very frustrating to me. He is quiet, but when he speaks, it is very clear that his English is excellent (his third langauge but he has been using it since he was 8 ) and his understanding of Church doctrine is extensive. Whenever he speaks, however, wether as a talk in Sacrament meeting, to bless the Sacrament, or just to comment in class, people tell ME how well he is doing. Just yesterday, his Sunday School teacher chased me down to tell me that he had “done well” in class. It seems to me that this might be appropriate or appreciated if he were 6 and I was his mother, but since that is not the case, it seems ridiculous. I think people act this way because they don’t expect much from him and are surprised to get it, based on the langauge. It translates to him, however, as racism. He feels that people have such low expectations of him because he is an african. It is so sad.
random John: I would be interested in taking a look at England’s study. I am agnostic on the ultimate question of how pervasive racial stereotypes are among Mormons. I certainly don’t find the idea that lots of Mormons have screwed up racial conceptions based on apologia for the priesthood ban implausible. On the other hand, I would like to see how England conducted his study, e.g. sample size and selection, quesitons asked, other factors controlled for, etc. etc.
ESO, that is a sad comment (#24) and I am sure many of our readers reach out to you and your husband. Language (and race) is indeed a threshold, not always because of racism, but because differences create distances and misunderstanding in intercultural communication. You will read the same kind of testimonies on the No more foreigners thread. Well-meant remarks by white Americans are sometimes off key. My advice would be to be open about it with the fellow members, talk about what offends in a gracious way and help us become better persons in our relations. BTW, what country is your husband from? I worked in Africa for several years.
Wilfried, responding to ESO (##24 and 26): My advice would be to be open about it with the fellow members, talk about what offends in a gracious way and help us become better persons in our relations.
Ditto
ESO–
I doubt this will make you feel better, but I imagine that members could have the same respone to any new-convert-spouse, regardless of race. I think what they are conveying is that they appreciate his presence in class, he seems to be assimilating to the gospel, etc. Perhaps this is an overly-charitable reading, but it is a possibility.
Nate,
Unfortunately I don’t have the study. The only way I know about it is from a conversation I had with him about it. Maybe somebody here is more familiar with the work? In the meantime I’ll try to track it down.
True, Julie (# 28), but as as a foreigner myself (and then still white European, but with an accent !) I know how quickly some condescending, some paternalism, some naive superiority creeps in when people approach you. My advice: when you talk to a foreigner, act as if he or she is not a foreigner, but a copatriot, neighbor and friend you have known for many years. Just try to look beyond the differences.
I think Julie may be on to something; a new convert can sometimes be babied with destructive enthusiasm; and when the convert is black the force is doubled because of a kind of weird protectiveness that condescendingly assumes he will have greater faith-hurdles due to the Church’s pre-1978 history. I baptized a black family in Virginia and witnessed this phenomenon in all its embarrassing glory as the collective I.Q. and personality of the entire ward suddenly matched that of the ladies in Chicken Run.
ARJ,
Well if England was doing this in the mid-80’s it would not be surprising if people still had some odd views. And I am curious about what Eugene England characterized as “misconceptions”. The one time I heard him speak I thought his use of evidence/examples to be rather selective in his favor.
Thank you for your comments. I tend to believe that my branch treating my husband like a kid is as a result of his relative new-member status (although he has been a member the entire time we have lived in this branch) and a concern about language barriers. I give them the benefit of the doubt mostly because I personally cannot conceive of racism and thus am amazed whenever I hear someone make a racist statement. I try to think that everyone thinks like I do and that racism is simply a manifestation of extreme ignorance. I choose to believe my branch members’ unfortunate behavior is not racist in nature. My husband, however, FEELS that this treatment is due to his race, which is a problem in and of itself.
We were fortunate enough to live in the Anacostia branch (in D.C.) previously. Of the many units I have attended on 4 continents, I think this is the most intertesting branch I have been a part of. It is about 95% black, mostly African-Americans, but a few African families as well. Every adult I knew there except me and the missionaries were converts. We were spoiled there because everyone treated us with great respect, even though for a good year we were a dreaded part-member family. I think it is not by coincidence that my husband joined the Church in such an atmosphere.
Anyway, we perservere. I think I am going to have to start having heart-to-heart sessions with the people who come to tell me how well my husband did blessing the Sacrament. They probably have no idea how mortifying their good deed actually is.
Wilfried–he is from Kenya.
Can’t believe I missed the whole “vos” discussion and just noticed it now.
As I understand it, the short answer is that tu was the informal second person in Spanish several centuries ago, and vos was more formal. This was the state of being when the conquistadores came over, and so original settlers everywhere began a pattern of using vos and tu.
Shortly after that, language patterns changed in Spain. The extremely formal greeting “vuestra merced” was shortened to “usted” which became the formal greeting. With usted taking the role of formal greeting, vos was discarded in Catillian Spanish.
The change was conveyed to the main commerce areas of Latin America (including Mexico and Peru). It never fully made it to the less traveled spots like Argentina and Central America. Those area eventually picked up usted, but never got rid of vos. As a result, they have three second-person pronouns rather than two.
In some places, vos is considered a coarse form of talk — hillbilly talk, so to speak. In other places, it is just part of the mix, and is perfectly acceptable to use in conversations. It depends on the language norms of the region in question.