Little Worlds

When I was four years old, my family took a short holiday to a lodge somewhere up in the Adirondacks. The woods surrounding the lodge were home to these very fuzzy, bright green and yellow caterpillars. It drove my dad a little crazy that, with all there was too do at this idyllic place, the only thing that interested me was collecting caterpillars and watching them go about their lives. I remember having a dozen or so of them in the concave side of a Frisbee, where I also placed a bunch of fresh leaves and grass. My parents thought I was a strange kid, but I was fascinated by this little world I'd created, and how its inhabitants interacted with one another. I was really upset when the long weekend was over and it was time to drive back to the city, and my parents told me I'd have to set my little subjects free. I did not yet know that writing was a thing to be done, and that creating worlds on paper was much more practical and humane than playing God with a bunch of little creatures who just wanted to be left to their own business.


Lately, I feel as if I’m adrift at sea with dry land nowhere in sight. This vast expanse of ocean on which I find myself drifting; it’s crystal clear. So clear that I can peer over the side of my raft and see all the way down to the bottom of the sea, where fish move gracefully in and out of a coral reef. The other side of the water line makes for a nice change of scenery. It takes my mind off the inevitable sunburn that being adrift without shelter results in. Oars or a sail would be good, just about now. I believe hurricane season is on the horizon.

Denial as Privilege

Leaked emails from the world of entertainment have opened up a can of worms that sheds some light on an issue that's a whole lot more important than the movie business. Unless you've been living under a rock for the past few days, you've heard about how actor Ben Affleck participated in a PBS show in which celebrities, with the help of genealogy experts, explore their ancestry and family history.  Evidently, during the course of this exploration, one of the pieces of information which was unearthed was the fact that one of Affleck's ancestors was a wealthy slave owner. It's not exactly shocking for a white man in America to have ancestry that connects, on some level, to the institution of slavery. What's shocking - or at least newsworthy, anyhow - is that Affleck made a concerted effort to have this piece of his family history edited out of the program. Affleck has since admitted that he is embarrassed by this piece of family history, and that he did not want a television program which focused on his family to include it.

Stew on that for a second. He went on a television show (on PBS, no less) to trace his roots and discuss where and who he came from and, once he found out he was descended from a slave owner, asked that such an unsavory piece of of his family history be edited out when the show aired. 

Ben Affleck is a racist jerk. 

Not because he is a descendant of slave owners - lots of people are. He's a racist jerk because he, and a lot of other people, fail to see that the very act of editing one's family history in this way is nothing more than an incredible example of white privilege in action. What's more, it's racism. 

I've heard defenders of Affleck's actions state that he should not be held accountable for his ancestors' practices, that this could shed a bad light on him and his present-day family, that he has a right to privacy. 

I don't hold anyone alive today accountable for the behavior of their ancestors. I do, however, think the biggest thing keeping racial harmony from being a reality in this country is a failure on the part of white America to own up to the fact that it has benefitted from systemic racism of all kinds. The institution of slavery was almost certainly the biggest piece of the systemic racism pie that this country has known, and the sweetness of that slice of pie still lingers on the tongues of white Americans' today. They need to own up to this, or nothing will ever get better. 

With regards to this bit of news shedding a harsh light on his family, today? I highly doubt this will pose any real problem. Other celebrities have appeared on this very same program, found out about their slave-owning ancestors, and suffered no repercussions. 

As for Affleck's privacy? If he had no desire to delve into difficult and even painful areas in his family's past, perhaps going on a genealogy hunt on national television was not the wisest of choices. 

But, now...about that white privilege thing. Some people might think I'm being a little harsh when I use that term in this context. I'm not. You see, it must be awfully nice to know one can make a few calls, send a few emails, and - BAM - be done with one's family history. And Affleck almost pulled it off. You know who can't pull that off? Who can NEVER pull it off? A black American. 

Descendants of slaves don't have the luxury of being able to erase their family histories. That, Ben Affleck, is one of the many fringe benefits of being white in America. And yes, you came this close to pulling it off. If not for that pesky email leak, you'd be that bright, shiny, superhero-playing, politically-correct actor/director whose family line is filled with industrious hard workers, fun characters, and even civil rights activists, just the way you like it. Instead, I look at you and see White Privilege Ken Doll: Denial Edition. I don't have bad feelings about you because your ancestor owned slaves. I have bad feelings about you because you tried to cover up this truth. You tried to rewrite history. And this particular history isn't just yours: it belongs to the slaves your ancestors owned. 

Here's the thing: Ben Affleck's great great great grandfather owned slaves. My great great great grandfather, Manuel, WAS a slave. If every white person erased what his or her great great great grandfathers did, they'd also be erasing what was done to my ancestors. And to every slave in America. And that just won't do. 

If Ben Affleck is worried that finding out their ancestor owned slaves will be upsetting to his children, he might want to consider how upsetting it is for the millions of people in this country who, if they trace their roots back just a few generations, find that their ancestors aren't listed as residents of a house, but as property of a household. And, no, none of this is Ben Affleck's fault but, as a wealthy, white, American man, Affleck has an enormous amount of power. Using this power to cover up a piece of history that is inconvenient for him is inexcusable. And it's an act of passive racism. 

Seam

Once, I sat by the side of the road, and watched a great, big truck deliver the two halves of a house that was being relocated from a different spot. They cut it down the middle and brought it down one half at a time, because the house was so very big. And they lay down the halves so carefully, shifting an inch in this direction, an inch in that...until the halves lined up perfectly. And then they sealed them together so that there was a seam running right down the middle of the floor.

I loved watching them move that house. I never imagined I would live there, myself, some day. But I did.

The hallway had freshly-laid wall-to-wall carpeting. The day I moved in, I took off my shoes and took a walk all the way up the long, long hallway. Barefoot. And, through the thick carpet, I could feel the seam where the two halves of the house were joined. Thick shag couldn't hide that seam from me. It was our secret.

Magic Beans

You ask me for advice on tying up loose ends, and I tell you that I'm not sure I've ever in my whole life tied up a pair of loose ends, that my life is not tidy in that way. It's more like a field, I tell you...like a field where the crop isn't wheat or corn or barley but, sprouting from the ground, connections. To people and places and moments in time. And me? I spend my time wandering that field, noting how different it is from one spot to the next. Here, where there's nothing but shade, are just dried dandelions and dead leaves. Over there, where it rains, but the sun hides behind the clouds now and again, are delicate blades of grass, and bits of moss on wet stones. Way over there, where the sun shines, every single day, and the rain starts falling at dusk...where the worms and the birds and the bees love to gather? Over there are sunflowers with tall, tall stalks, and poppies and, where a stream runs through that area, there's wild, hardy asparagus. That's where the magic beans were dropped, so long ago, and where a beanstalk has pushed its way out of the soil, and now chases the sun, straight into the sky. It is the place where I stop and sit and lean my tired bones when walking around this field gets to be exhausting.

I wouldn't know how to tie up loose ends if I tried.