Showing posts with label Obama. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Obama. Show all posts

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Health Care Reform: It's Ugly, Scary, and Completely Harmless

I have been completely taken aback by the recent surge of emotional instability exhibited by some objectors to health care reform over the past few weeks. The sheer number of people going off the deep end has really baffled me, and the extent to which some have plunged is alarming.  Dissenters are reaching new lows in this country by the minute.  The last time I saw someone fly off the handle in this vein, was when my four-year old became completely unglued the other day because of something ugly, scary and completely harmless.

I was putting the girls down for a nap yesterday afternoon, when Sadia's routine was broken up by a visit from a June-bug hovering just outside the window beside her bed.   It scared the bejesus out of her, to the extent that she refused to get into bed. 

"AAAAAH!  MOOOOOOM, ITS GOING TO EAT ME!  DON'T LET HIM GET ME!"

She flipped.  The thought of that huge bug remotely near her was paralyzing.  The beastly sound of its wings flapping feverishly in the air gave her the willies.  She's not used to an insect producing such a hideous racket.

I often wonder why people get so frightened by  these beetles.  Perhaps their characteristically clumsy flying makes them appear aggressive, but they're actually very gentle creatures.  Still people often react disproportionately to the beetle's presence.   

Sure, beetles are ugly and scary looking, but the bottom line is they are completely harmless. Sadia's reaction seemed erratic.  She jumped, she screamed, she flailed her arms in hysteria. She went berserk.., over a bug.., on the outside of the window.  Her reaction was excessive, but I hesitate to become too critical.  Her experience awaken my own traumatizing childhood encounter with an insect.

I was thirteen or fourteen-years old.  One night while bathing, I got an unexpected visit from a spider.  I was completely caught off guard after I looked up to find the pest dangling from the ceiling just above my head.  The thing looked hideous and I was afraid of it.  To this day, I still get a good start when I see the hairy creatures.  (If you need additional proof,  just check out my reaction to this guy.)  

My imagination got the best of me.  I entertained notions that the small spider would jump at me and attack me.  Steven Spielberg's 1990's horror movie, "Arachnophobia" contributed to my irrational fear, and as a result seeing this hairy menace gave me visions of spiders overtaking the neighborhood.  Without a second thought, I yelled at the top of my lungs:  

"AAAAAHHHH!  HE'S GOING TO GET ME!  DAD, HELP!  HELP!  SOMEBODY HELP ME!  I bellowed while fighting back a fit of  hyperventilation.

It wasn't long afterwards that my father arrived beating on the door, struck by fear that my life was in mortal danger. And who would blame him; fear only produces more fear.  He turned the door knob eratically.  I locked it earlier to ward off my pesky little sister, who was at that awkward invasion of privacy stage of adolescence.  

"Unlock the door!" came his troubled voice as he frantically pulled on the knob.

"I CAN'T OPEN IT!"  I freaked.  I was so frozen with anxiety that I couldn't move a muscle.

My father stood on the other side of the door faced with a worst case scenario.  His daughter was trapped in a locked room screaming bloody murder, and he was gripped with terror of the unknown.   A  visceral reaction to the madness incited my dad to bust the door off its  hinges, knocking it completely off the wall and onto the bathroom floor.  And in his mind at that moment, the ends justified the means.

As the dust and the crackling and snapping of the door's exposed interior settled, two things had occurred to me: 1) Perhaps I should have specified that the spider was the object of my fear; 2) I had no idea that my reckless actions could lead to such brute force.   

Sadia's knee-jerk reaction to the June-bug this afternoon was immobilizing.  My overdramatic response to the spider over twenty years ago was at best excesive, and dangerous at worst. We behaved in a way that most people would expect of fool-hearty youth.  

In hindsight, our overblown reactions to the bugs, were probably fueled by the illusion of danger rather than the insects themselves. We had been sucked into the drama of it all. My fear was elevated thanks to the magic of Hollywood, and Sadia's fear had been intensified by fantasy born out of youthful imagination.  But whether the threat that both Sadia and I faced was real or imagined, our reactions aren't unique. 
 
Have you ever been afraid of something that you didn't fully understand? What fueled that fear? Lately, our country has been tinged with anxiety surrounding the health care debate.   Fear has reared its ugly head and people have gotten unglued.

I'll use the case of William Kostric as an example.  He brought a loaded handgun to protest a town hall meeting on health care reform.  A bit extravagant, no?  Not convinced, huh? Well, the gun touting protestor also showed off a sign that read, "It is time to water the tree of liberty,"  which is actually a reference to a Thomas Jefferson quote that reads in full: "The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of tyrants and patriots."

Loaded guns and handmade signs alluding to violent rebellion is over-the-top and reckless.  Suppose someone else who opposed his views had shown up with a loaded gun as well?  It's not completely implausible, after all carrying a holstered loaded weapon is legal in Portsmouth, New Hampshire.  Suppose all of the protestors had arrived bearing arms to demonstrate their disapproval.  Since guns are used primarily to kill, it is safe to assume that the result would have been violent.  Or perhaps that was the intent.  You can read more about his story here.   

While others may seem less demonstrative, their words are no less reckless.  With accusations like murderer  flying around, there's no wonder people are responding with paranoia.  You don't yell "FIRE" in a crowded theatre, because fear motivates people to freak out.  The hysteria results in panic, and panic can be dangerous.

Some have even gone so far as to compare the health insurance reform bill the Hitler's health care plan of the 1930s.  I guess anyone with a Crayola marker and the ability to scribble a Hitler mustache can make this divisive statement. What is supposed to be a strategy meant to show strong conviction, really boils down to just an immature attempt at getting an emotional response.  Lessons learned from genocide should be held in high regard and not trivialized when adapted to health care reform by indiscriminate protestors.

It just doesn't seem like all people are doing is protesting the bill.  There isn't that civil exchange of ideas that America and its citizens are always flaunting in front of  the world.  Agitators have blown this issue way out of proportion, and in so doing have lost credibility. People are shouting, "HE WANTS TO KILL ME! OBAMA WANTS TO KILL ME!" and seemingly without regard for the resulting collateral damage.  

For the most part, some fear is healthy.   It is our most instinctive and primal aversion to things that are new, things that are ugly,  and things that are scary.  To ideas.  But it sometimes gets an unnatural hold on us, darkening and narrowing our perspective. 

In Sadia's case, the June-bug was not the enemy.  In my case, the spider wasn't the obstacle. In the case of Mr. Kostric, the threat of change was palpable.  Fear is the real monster and the path to overcoming fear is sober thinking and understanding.


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Friday, August 07, 2009

An Open Letter to Barack Obama

Dear Barack,

Something unusual has happened to me over the past few days. To be frank: you have been the subject of my dreams. That's not unusual, you might be thinking. Women dream about me all the time.

Yea, well, it's not those kinds of dreams that I'm talking about here. The truth is, I've encountered lots of discrimination this summer and lately the topic of acceptance is always churning in the back of my mind. I went out on a limb and blogged about my deepest insecurities brought on by bigotry here and here, which opened my eyes to a world of self discovery. I love the intentional visibility of your love for Michelle in such a public forum.

Just recently, my need for public acceptance resurfaced when I saw this intimate portrait of you and your gorgeous wife Michelle here:



At first glance, someone might wonder what you could possibly be whispering in Michelle's ear. But a closer look revealed what I believe to be at heart of this candid moment:


As I look at the expression on Michelle's face, immediately something deep inside me was stirred. My first thought was....there is no pretending here. This is the face of a woman that is loved. And desired. And romanticized. And her delight is being broadcast for all to see. Michelle's expression partially resonates with me.  I say partially because while at home I live these emotions daily, but sadly the world lags in embracing black love publicly. 

My husband is the most sentimental man I know.  He is very romantic and I experience great fulfillment through his expressions of love, which begs the question: If I am so fulfilled at home, why am I dreaming about you? 

Well, I am an attractive brother? You might be thinking. Nope. You're fine and all, but that ain't it. Then it must be my power and prestige? No, that isn't it either. Your presidency is so deeply personal to me because in my experience, being dark-skinned in America and being desirable in America are two mutually exclusive ideas. Your publicity puts man's desire for black women at center stage and it flies in the face of conventional thinking.

As a child, I experienced a lot of public ridicule both within the black community, as well as in the mainstream. Even at a tender age, I was always aware that I was black. I don't mean black as in African American. I mean black-black, which is the kind of black that is inexcusable for that grade of desirable folks in America: those who are pretty to a point of pain for young dark-skinned women like me.

When I was a little girl, being called ugly by my peers was an everyday experience, and for others like me who didn't exactly pass the brown paper bag test. At school (dressed up in my nicest clothes, my braids tightened in neat cornrows) no one ever noticed me. Instead, I was relentlessly taunted and called names like Tar Baby or African Booty-Scratcher by the very people whose acceptance I sought (it's a shame what we put each other through).

As a young woman in college, I dated a few black guys. In these relationships I found myself conforming to something that was not quite me: I began straightening my hair; adding long silky extensions to it. But pretending to be that girl wasn't really my thing, and most brothers weren't ready to accept me for who I was, so I shrank from the world and for years went unnoticed.

That is until I met my husband. Teddy loves the black out of me. Through his love, I feel secure in embracing my blackness--bushy hair and all.


He relishes me. I am awakened by his love. And there is nothing more sexy than my man, who romanticizes over wholly me.

So, why have you been the subject of my dreams for the past few days? Because you have displayed before the world what I have experienced in a private context. Your affectionate candor for your lovely wife, somehow quenches my own personal thirst for public acceptance. There is no mistaken; you are completely in love with Michelle--a black woman-- and I have a great appreciation for a man who desires dark-skinned women.

Barack, you are a tall glass of water.

Sincerely,
Dionne Sincire


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Next Post: Sadia Says the Darndest Things

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Obama, and Driving


I got my driver's license
for the first time, in '09
welcoming thirty-two
wuthering past wasilla

I got shotgun inside this 
vehicle for change, strange
figure in the photo 
captures a modern era

origin: 
neither African
nor American
but born in Yeswecan

height:
entering from the front
eating at the table
eclipsing the glass ceiling

weight:
palpable

eyes:
rose-colored

DOB:
1-20-09

King Marched, So That Obama Could Run





Lyrics | McFadden & Whitehead - Ain’t No Stopping Us Now lyrics

Thursday, November 06, 2008

A Change is Gonna Come

Recorded by Sam Cooke in 1963

I was born by the river
In a little tent, and o
just like that river
I've been running ever since

It's been a long long time coming, but I know
A change is gonna come, oh yes it will

It's been too hard living
but I'm afraid to die
'cause I don't know what's up there
beyond the sky,

It's been a long time coming, but I know
A change is gonna come, oh yes it will

I go to the movie and I go downtown
Somebody keep tellin' me
don't hang around

It's been a long time coming, but I know
A change is gonna come, oh yes it will

Then I go to my brother
and I say brother help me please
But he wind up knocking me
back down on my knees

There have been times that I thought
I couldn't last for long
But now I think I'm able to carry on

It's been a long time, but I know
A change is gonna come, oh yes it will

Penny for your Thoughts...

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